


Save Myself

by psychotic_fangirl369



Series: Between the Devil and the Danger [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Draco Malfoy, Drinking Games, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Never Have I Ever, Party Games, Pining, Pining Harry Potter, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slytherins Being Slytherins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-09-06 10:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 69,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16830676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychotic_fangirl369/pseuds/psychotic_fangirl369
Summary: Harry Potter is trying to get on with his life, despite living in the shadow of the war. But 8th year doesn't go quite as he expects. What with midnight rendezvous in the 8th year common room, drunken confessions and seeing dead people everywhere he turns, Harry's school year is turning out to be just as bizarre as the previous ones. Oh, and there is the fact that he has been pining over someone for years. And that person had to be Draco Malfoy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone. So here it is... the fic that I have been working on. I hope you all enjoy it, as I have loved writing this one. I want to thank my beautiful and amazing best friend, my werewolf, for being an incredible beta and making this fic even better than I had originally planned. You have been amazing! I love you so much. Thank you <3
> 
> This fic is complete and is just undergoing a bit more editing and tweaking, so I promise that chapters will be uploaded regularly. 
> 
> P.S Merry Christmas Everyone!

__

_**Save Myself** _

__

_I gave all my oxygen to people that could breathe_  
_I gave away my money and now we don't even speak_  
_I drove miles and miles, but would you do the same for me?_  
_Oh, honestly?_

_Offered off my shoulder just for you to cry upon_  
_Gave you constant shelter and a bed to keep you warm_  
_They gave me the heartache and in return I gave a song_  
_It goes on and on_

_Life can get you down so I just numb the way it feels_  
_I drown it with a drink and out-of-date prescription pills_  
_And all the ones that love me they just left me on the shelf_  
_No farewell_  
_So before I save someone else, I've got to save myself_

_I gave you all my energy and I took away your pain_  
_'Cause human beings are destined to radiate or drain_  
_What line do we stand upon 'cause from here it looks the same?_  
_And only scars remain_

_Life can get you down so I just numb the way it feels_  
_I drown it with a drink and out-of-date prescription pills_  
_And all the ones that love me they just left me on the shelf_  
_No farewell_  
_So before I save someone else, I've got to save myself_

_But if I don't_  
_Then I'll go back_  
_To where I'm rescuing a stranger_  
_Just because they needed saving just like that_  
_Oh, I'm here again_  
_Between the devil and the danger_  
_But I guess it's just my nature_  
_My dad was wrong_  
_'Cause I'm not like my mum_  
_'Cause she'd just smile and I'm complaining in a song_  
_But it helps_  
_So before I save someone else_  
_I've got to save myself_

_Life can get you down so I just numb the way it feels_  
_I drown it with a drink and out-of-date prescription pills_  
_And all the ones that love me they just left me on the shelf_  
_No farewell_  
_So before I save someone else, I've got to save myself_  
_And before I blame someone else, I've got to save myself_  
_And before I love someone else, I've got to love myself_

_\- Ed Sheeran_

**PROLOGUE**

****

_Now I see fire, inside the mountain I see fire, burning the trees_

_And I see fire, hollowing souls_

_And I see fire, blood in the breeze_

-I See Fire, Ed Sheeran 

**Harry**

The Great Hall is full of silent bodies and rubble. The wounded lie on the floor whilst the less injured tend to their wounds. The dead lie there, uncovered, their faces still, silent, blank. No one breathes a word. No one has it in them to try. 

Harry walks through the hall, feeling hollow inside. He pauses as he passes by distraught families, trying to offer them sad smiles of comfort. He doesn’t know how else to help them. He has done his job. He has gotten rid of Voldemort – in one way or another. The how isn’t important right now. The fact is that Tom Riddle, murderer of thousands and the tormentor of Harry’s existence, is gone. And now there are only the tattered remains left. He wants to help those that lost people, the grieving masses. He wants to make them feel better. Because while he focuses on them, he doesn’t have to think about himself or his own losses. 

He swallows heavily, blinking back his tears, and keeps walking. He passes by the Malfoy’s, who are huddled in a corner, looking like utter crap. Malfoy looks up at him and Harry stares back, startled by the utter emptiness on the young man’s face. But then Narcissa says something to Malfoy, who tears his gaze from Harry and responds to his parents. Harry looks away and nearly cries in relief when he spots the Weasley family and Hermione huddled together. Then he stops abruptly when he remembers. Fred is dead. Fred – stupid, clever, mischievous Fred is gone. Harry wants to weep with guilt. He considers fleeing from the hall, but Hermione spots him and runs towards him. She throws her arms around him, sobbing silently. 

“Oh, Harry,” She whispers, her voice broken and quiet. 

He clings to her, pressing his face into her hair as he breathes in her familiar scent. He wants to sob, but he won’t. Not here. He must be strong, for everyones sake. He might not like it, but he knows that to some people, his presence is a comfort. And if he breaks down, he might take that small amount of peace away from them. 

After a deep breath, he steps back, smiling slightly at her.

Hermione wipes her eyes, smiling back through her tears. “We’re alive,” she murmurs. She glances down at her feet. “I never thought… I mean. I didn’t think that we’d survive this, Harry. And,” she glances around, dropping her voice even lower, “I feel guilty. We’re alive. But so many aren’t. Fred. Remus. Tonks.” She sniffs again. Harry reaches out and squeezes her shoulder. “I know,” he says. “But we have to keep on living. It’s what they would want. It’s what they died for.” He doesn’t believe it, not really. The words just make his stomach churn.

But they seem to comfort Hermione. They walk over to the Weasley’s together and Harry falls into Molly’s arms. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers to her, guilt hitting him once again.

She squeezes him tightly, before letting go and gently cupping his face. “Because of you, Harry, my other children are alive. Thank you.”

He nods, feeling even worse. Ron and Hermione did just as much as he did. Yes, in the end, Harry was the one to dispose of Voldemort. But without his friends, he would never have managed to stay alive long enough to achieve it. But now isn’t the time, so he kisses Mrs Weasley’s cheek and steps away. 

Harry looks over at Ron and Hermione, who are holding hands as they watch him. He wants to talk to just them. He needs to tell them what happened. At least some of it. And they want to know. So, as one, they walk out the hall together. They keep walking until they find an empty spot of fallen ruins that they can hide behind without being seen. They settle down, sitting in the gravel. Ron and Hermione look at Harry expectantly and he sighs, rubbing his forehead. He closes his eyes, wincing as his memories flash before his mind. His friends don’t push him. They sit there silently, waiting. Finally, Harry opens his eyes and begins to speak. “I had to die.”

Ron swallows, not saying anything. Hermione glances between them, before asking, “But you aren’t. How did you do it? You had to destroy the final Horcrux.” She winces, looking down, before meeting Harry’s gaze again. “Yourself.”

Harry nods. This is going to be tricky to explain. He doesn’t really know how to say it. But it must be done.

Taking a deep breath, he replies. 

“I know. Which is why I let Voldemort kill me.”

Hermione frowns. “But, Harry, you’re not dead.” Harry sighs again. He’s so tired. He just wants to curl up somewhere far away, and cry until he can’t breathe. He wants to sleep for an eternity. He doesn’t want to face life or the realities that are to come now that Voldemort is gone. “But I was,” he says softly. “I died. I just… came back.”

Ron is pale. “Bloody hell, mate!”

Harry smiles weakly. “Yeah…” 

They talk for a while. Harry tells them about how he saw his parents just before he died. He doesn’t tell them that he has kept all three Deathly Hallows, hidden safely away. He knows what Hermione will say. And Harry knows the dangers. He does. But he can’t risk another Grindelwald or Voldemort seeking the Hallows out and using them. 

And Harry definitely doesn’t tell them how he finally got rid of Voldemort. Hermione will have a fit and Ron will probably have a heart attack. No. Some burdens are his to bear. And his alone. The less his friends know, the safer they’ll be. After some time, he excuses himself from Ron and Hermione. They let him go, understanding his need for time and space. He’s grateful for that. 

When he is far enough from them, he drops to his knees on the floor, clutching his chest. He rocks slowly, the tears he’s been holding back slowly starting to fall. He gasps for breath, heart wrenching sobs finally falling from his mouth. He wails, far enough away from the ruins of the school for his loud sobs to go unheard. Broken screams erupt from his mouth as he holds himself, agony filling his soul. They are dead. They are all dead. Because of him. He closes his eyes, another torture scream falling from his lips. 

“Merlin!” He yells, his voice cracking, as he digs his fingers in his hair and screams again. He lets it all out. All the pent up rage and sadness and guilt. It falls from his body in shaking cries and agonizing screams. Finally, exhaustion catches up with him and he collapses in a heap on the floor, curling up into a foetal position, hugging his knees tightly. He trembles, unable to breathe. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut and lies there on the cold ground, still. His breathing is laboured. _Oh, Harry, this is going to be fun._

“Shut up,” he whispers, talking to the voice. “Just go away.”

The voice laughs. _You will never get rid of me. You know that, Harry Potter. I’m here to stay._

Harry lets out a final sob. He doesn’t cry again. Not for a long, long time. 


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER ONE**

_Oh I’m a mess right now Inside out_

_Searching for a sweet surrender_

_But this is not the end_

-I’m A Mess, Ed Sheeran 

**Draco**

Draco holds his head high as he is led, bound and cuffed, before the Wizengamot. His mother and father are led in behind him. He refuses to look around the room at the court. He doesn’t want to see the sneers or the hatred in their eyes. The Aurors lead him and his parents to a bench at the side of the room. Draco stares at the chair in the centre of the room where he knows they will each be led in turn to sit, before being accused of crimes and sentenced to Azkaban. He wants to cry, but he won’t. Malfoy’s do not cry. Then again, Malfoy’s shouldn’t do a lot of things. But here they are. Criminals. He feels sick. 

The Aurors stand on either side of the bench, wands drawn and ready to strike if any of them try anything. Draco almost laughs. He and his parents are bound, starved and so, so tired. They aren’t going to try anything. They are here to accept their fate. _They have given up._

Kingsley Shacklebolt stands as Chief Warlock, overseeing all the Death Eater trials. Draco eyes the man, who sits behind the podium, his expression blank. Draco swallows and looks back at the floor, careful to keep his face emotionless. He won’t let people see just how terrified he is. 

“Lucius Malfoy, please come forward,” Shacklebolt says. 

An Auror grips Lucius’ arm and leads him to the chair, forcing him to sit. The Auror steps back but doesn’t go too far, wand at the ready. Draco swallows. This is it. “Lucius Malfoy, you are being charged with the crimes of being an active Death Eater, as well as housing other Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort himself. You are being accused of the murder of several muggles, as well as the murders of fellow witches and wizards. You are being accused of attacking Hogwarts on the 2nd May 1998. Furthermore, you are being accused of crimes from several years ago, including breaking into the Department of Mysteries. What do you plead?” Draco watches his once proud father stare at the floor as he whispers out a barely audible, “guilty.”

The jury barely takes a moment to implement the verdict of life in Azkaban, before they are leading his father away. Draco breathes in a deep breath, trying not to panic. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to rot in Azkaban. He never wanted any of this. But he, like his father, knows that there is no point denying the accusations. What he did was wrong, he knows that, but it doesn’t change anything. He is guilty and there is no escaping his fate. 

His mother is led to the chair next and is accused of much the same crimes as his father. He watches in silent horror as his mother sheds a silent tear but continues to hold her head high. After a few moments, Shacklebolt begins to speak.

“The jury hereby finds the accused gu- “

“Wait!” A voice calls out as the doors bang open. 

Draco’s head whips around to see Harry Potter himself dashing into the room, panting. His robes are a wrinkled mess and his hair is a bird’s nest. His face is deathly pale and there are dark bags under his eyes. The Boy Who Lived Twice looks like shit. But Draco barely registers it. He is too busy wondering what the hell Harry bloody Potter wants at Draco’s mother’s trial. 

Shacklebolt falls silent, as does the rest of the Wizengamot. Draco stares at the awestruck expressions on their faces in annoyance. Every single person in the room is looking at Potter as though he is God’s gift to earth. Draco supposes he is. And yes, maybe Draco feels a bit of awe for Potter too. Maybe he is thankful and grateful that Potter killed the snake faced bastard. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to stare at Potter like a love-struck teenager like the rest of the world seems to enjoy doing. 

Potter strolls to the middle of the room confidently, and stops beside Narcissa’s chair. Draco watches with bated breath. 

“I wish to speak on behalf of Narcissa Malfoy. I want to plead innocent on her behalf.”

Draco blinks, stunned. He was not expecting that. And clearly, the Wizengamot wasn’t either, if their confused and dumbstruck faces are anything to go by. 

Potter seems oblivious, as always, and ploughs ahead. “Yes, Narcissa Malfoy has committed crimes. But she does not deserve Azkaban. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be standing here today.”

His statement draws hushed whispers from almost everyone in the room. Draco stares at Potter in confusion, before glancing at his mother, who is staring at the floor, expression blank. What is Potter on about? 

“At the Battle of Hogwarts,” Potter continues, “I went into the forest to face Voldemort.”

The Wizengamot members nod, having heard about how Potter fell into Voldemort’s hands during the battle, only to turn on him and kill him. Everyone knows that. Although, Draco muses, something else happened that night. He doesn’t know what, but he does know Potter well enough to know when he is lying. And everything about the story Potter fed the press is off. Something happened that night that the Chosen One doesn’t want the rest of the world to know. 

“What you don’t know,” Potter says, “is that Voldemort attempted to use the Killing Curse on me. He thought he had killed me. Narcissa Malfoy was sent to check my pulse, to see if I was dead or not. She knew I was still alive. She asked me whether Draco Malfoy, her son, was still alive. I told her that he was. He was safe in the castle. She then proceeded to lie to Voldemort. She told him that I was dead. In doing so, she saved my life and made it possible for me to end him. Without her, Voldemort would have won.”

There is a collective gasp throughout the room. Draco knows he is part of it. His mother lied to old snake face? His mother saved Potter’s life? 

Potter breathes deeply. “I ask that you pardon Narcissa Malfoy for her crimes. But if that is too much to ask for, I beg you to spare her from Azkaban. She doesn’t deserve it. Thank you.”

With that, Potter walks over to an empty seat and falls into it, graceful as ever. Draco stares at him for a moment, before looking over at his silently crying mother, then at Shacklebolt. The jury is talking in hushed tones. It doesn’t last long. 

“We have come to a decision,” Shacklebolt says slowly. “Narcissa Malfoy, you are to be placed under house arrest for one year, and, for five years after that, there will be monthly checkups and inspections of your person and your home. Case closed.”

Draco lets out a sigh of relief, as does his mother, who is crying openly. When she is freed from the chair, she runs over to Potter and hugs him, thanking him. Potter smiles softly and says something that makes Narcissa smile. Draco chews his lip and allows himself to be led to the chair. It’s okay, he thinks to himself. He can survive Azkaban as long as he knows that his mother is safe. And, he thinks begrudgingly, thanks to Potter, she is. 

“Draco Malfoy, you are being charged with the crimes of being an active Death Eater. You are accused of accessory to murder as well as the torture of muggles and fellow witches and wizards. You are accused of helping Death Eaters break into Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry. You are also being accused of being responsible for Dumbledore’s death. What do you plead?”

Draco takes a deep breath. “Guilty.”

“I would like to say something.”

Draco cranes his neck to watch as Potter walks forward.

What could Potter possibly want to say?

“Draco Malfoy, like his mother, saved my life.” He did what? Draco frowns. When did he ever savePotter’s life?

“While myself, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were living on the run, we were taken by Snatchers to Malfoy Manor. Once there, Ma- Draco was asked to identify whether it was me or not. See, Hermione had cast a stinging jinx on my face so that it was disfigured. Draco knew that it was me and my friends, yet he refused to identify us. In doing so, he bought us enough time to escape from the Manor. Draco Malfoy is also not to blame for the death of Albus Dumbledore. I was there that night. Dumbledore offered to help Draco and he had been going to take the offer. He had been lowering his wand. It was Severus Snape that killed Dumbledore.”

The Wizengamot members frown. “But you said Severus Snape was actually a spy working for our side all along andthat he wasn’t helping Voldemort.” Someone asks.

Potter nods. “He was. Severus Snape was a brave man. Dumbledore was dying. But no one except Professor Snape knew that. Snape and Dumbledore knew that Draco had orders from Voldemort to kill Dumbledore, so they worked it out amongst the two of them that Professor Snape would be the one to kill Dumbledore, as he would then have Voldemort’s complete trust. They decided it months before it happened. Draco Malfoy is innocent. And so was Severus Snape. Dumbledore asked him to do it.”

“How do you know of this plan?” a member of the Wizengamot asks. 

Potter smiles sadly. “I was with Severus when he died. He gave me his tears so that I could access specific memories. There were some things he and Dumbledore needed me to know about Voldemort.”

“And those things are?” Someone prods. 

Potter shakes his head. “Best left forgotten,” he replies. “Besides, this trial isn’t about me. It’s about clearing Draco Malfoy’s name.”

And just like that, they are back on topic. Draco watches Potter as the jury decides his fate. Potter doesn’t look at him, he just sits there, staring at nothing, his face void of any emotion. He looks dead. Finally, his verdict is given. “Draco Malfoy, you are being placed on probation. You are to spend the summer helping with the rebuilding of Hogwarts. You will also be required to return to Hogwarts in September to finish off your education. If there are any incidents, this probation will be revoked. Depending on the severity of your crime, you will either be sentenced to time in Azkaban, or placed under house arrest with your mother.”

Draco sighs in relief. He can do that. He might not want to return to Hogwarts, but he’d choose it over Azkaban any day. He can hear his mother’s grateful and relieved sobs behind him. He is let out of the chair and the next thing he knows he is in his mother’s arms. He freezes for a moment, unused to the affection, but then he relaxes into it and hugs her back. 

“We’re going to be okay,” she whispers to him. Draco smiles slightly, then steps away from his mother, schooling his features again. The Aurors are about to escort them from the room when Potter calls out to him. 

“Malfoy! Wait!”

Draco turns, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. What could Potter want now? Potter stops in front of him. Draco looks at him – really looks at him – and is horrified by what he sees. Potter isn’t just pale. He looks ill. His cheeks are sunken. His eyes too large on his face. His clothes are falling off him because he is so thin. And that smile Draco hates so much is nowhere to be seen. He looks barely alive. Draco wants to reach out and touch him, to feel his pulse, just so that he knows that the boy is, in fact, alive. He doesn’t, of course. That would be weird. Potter starts talking. “Here. This is yours. Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

Draco glances down and gasps lightly when he sees what Potter is offering to him. It’s his wand. 10” Hawthorn, with a core of unicorn hair and reasonably springy. Draco reaches out hesitantly and takes it from Potter, caressing his wand lovingly. He holds it for a moment, feeling the familiar weight of it in his hands. He swallows his pride, looking up to meet Potter’s dead gaze. 

“Thank you,” Draco mumbles. 

Potter nods. Then, after shaking hands with Narcissa, he leaves. Draco stares after him. He wonders when Potter last smiled. Or ate. Or even slept. He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. That is none of his business. And it doesn’t matter anyways, so he turns away, not looking back at Potter. His mother slips her hand in his. “Let’s go home.”

******

When Draco first steps foot on the grounds of Hogwarts a month later, he can’t help but gawk at the sheer mass of destruction he sees. He hadn’t realized quite how much of the old castle had been demolished. He stares at it for several minutes, lost in thought. He did this, he thinks to himself. He contributed to the destruction of his own school. Draco is once again hit by self-loathing, but he pushes it aside, determined not to _feel_ over what he’s done in the past. He needs to move on and try to make the best of the situation. 

He walks up through the grounds and towards the small crowd gathered. He can see that people have already started fixing the castle. countless spells are being cast as bricks float up into the air and slowly start to mold themselves back together. As he draws nearer, he can make out the faces of some of the people. There is Hagrid, who is easy to spot because of his height. And Headmistress McGonagall. There are also a few other professors. Then, of course, there are some good willed students. Neville Longbottom. Luna Lovegood. The bloody Golden Trio. Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. Draco is shocked to see that Potter looks even worse than he did at Draco’s trail.

He looks scraped. Too little skin pulled taught over too much flesh. He looks frail. As though a simple gust of wind could knock him over. “Ah, Mr Malfoy.”

The group freeze at McGonagall’s words and turn to face him. He expects to see disgust. Hate. But he doesn’t. There is only calm acceptance. Luna smiles when she sees him and skips over to him. 

“Hello, Draco! I have missed seeing you every day! You did make the best sandwiches.”

Draco bites back a sad frown when he thinks about all those months Luna spent locked in his basement. He tried his best to make her comfortable, sneaking her more food and blankets. He even fixed a few of her injuries and slipped her the occasional Pepper Up potion. But he still feels guilty, because he didn’t do the one thing he should have done. Broken her out. Still, he accepts her gentle hug and smiles shyly back at her. The Golden Trio nod at him, but otherwise they continue with their work, not paying him much attention. Headmistress McGonagall pulls Draco aside. 

“Now, Mr Malfoy, I can’t promise that this will be easy for you. There will be those that will have their differences with you, but I can promise you that I am going to impress the importance of forgiveness and equality at the start of the school year. And I trust that you will be on your best behaviour.”

“Yes, Headmistress.”

After that, things go smoothly. Draco is shown the spells needed to rebuild the school and is left mostly to his own devices. The days blend together as the summer wears on. Potter and his friends show up daily, always willing to help. Draco watches from a distance, not speaking to any of them. He can’t help but watch Potter out of the corner of his eye. The Boy Who Lived Twice is slowly gaining colour again. And he seems to be putting on weight. He smiles more regularly and soon enough he is back to his arrogant, annoying self. Draco can’t help but feel relieved by this. 

By the time September rolls around, Hogwarts has been rebuilt and Draco has spent every day in the presence of the Golden Trio and not spoken a single word to them. The day before school is set to start, Draco has a moment of panic. He hasn’t had any contact with his old school friends over the summer and he doesn’t even know if they are returning to school or not. He also doesn’t know how much longer he can keep up this silent existence of talking only to his mother. But he reminds himself, as he lies in his bed in Malfoy Manor, heart racing, that he is a Malfoy. And Malfoys always remain calm and deal with what is thrown at them. If he could survive with the Dark Lord living inside his own home, he will bloody well survive his school mates. With that, he falls into a restless sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two**

_I'm well aware of certain things that will destroy a man like me_

_But with that said give me one more, higher_

_Another one to take the sting away_

_I am happy on my own, so here I'll stay_

_Save your lovin' arms for a rainy day_

_And I'll find comfort in my pain_

_Eraser_

-Eraser, Ed Sheeran

**Harry**

Breathe, Harry, he tells himself, leaning his head against the window of the train, his eyes closed. Breathe. He is alone in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, waiting for Hermione and Ron to join him. His friends had offered themselves up as distractions so that he could make it onto the train without a fuss, without adoring fans swarming him. 

Harry had been unsure as to whether he wanted to return to Hogwarts or not. Even now, as the train lurches forward, he is unsure of his decision. But he tells himself that he needs to get back to normal. He needs to continue with his life. These past few months had been a hellish disaster, and only the consistency of rebuilding the old castle helped him to get through them. The set routine, without danger or torment, was the only thing that kept him going. He opens his eyes, watching the countryside fly past and smiles sadly. Whether he wants to be at Hogwarts or not doesn’t matter. Anything beats being forced to attend more Ministry functions and memorials. Harry has done his duty. He has attended every trial he was needed at. He smiled for the press, gave interviews, signed pictures for his adoring fans. Now he just wants peace. 

The door to the compartment opens and he whips his head around, expecting to see Ron and Hermione. But instead, he meets the wide eyes of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy looks pale, like always. His hair is smooth as usual, hanging freely instead of gelled back. His grey eyes are unsure and nervous as he stares at Harry. “Sorry,” Malfoy says. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

Harry blinks. Did Malfoy just apologize? To him? Blimey, the world is fucked up. Malfoy turns to go, but Harry, unable to help himself, says, “Wait.”

Malfoy looks back at him, confused. Harry swallows. “You can stay,” Harry says. “I don’t mind.”

Malfoy looks suspicious, but slowly takes a seat opposite Harry. Harry stares down at his hands. He doesn’t know what to say or do now that he’s invited Malfoy to join him. Neither speaks for a while. The train ploughs ahead and Harry’s thoughts drift to his two best friends who have yet to make an appearance. He looks up to find Malfoy staring at him. He stares back unabashedly. Malfoy looks _good._ He is dressed in a plain black suit and a Slytherin green tie. Harry must push back the unwanted desires that have plagued him since 3rdyear. “How’s your mum?” Harry blurts out, just to have something to say. 

Malfoy blinks, before replying politely, “She’s well, thank you. She is resting a lot.”

Harry nods, scratching his arm lightly. “I’m glad. That she’s well, I mean. I was worried.”

Malfoy raises one perfect eyebrow. “You were, Potter?”

Harry swallows. “Yeah. I mean. I owe her my life.” He hesitates. “And you.”

Malfoy snorts in a very un-Malfoy manner. “You owe me nothing, Potter. You saved me, if you recall.”

Harry does recall. He can see the fire clear as day. The smoke clogging up his lungs and suffocating him. The raw panic he felt when he saw Malfoy stuck on top of the pile of furniture, his terror when he realized that Malfoy might die. He hadn’t even hesitated in flying back to help the other boy. He can still feel the soft skin of Malfoy’s hand against his own coarse palm. He can still remember how it felt to have Malfoy’s arms wrapped around him and clinging to him tightly. And in that moment, nothing else had mattered. Voldemort, the Horcruxes, the Hallows – none of it. So long as Malfoy was alive and by Harry’s side, the rest of the world could burn. 

Harry blinks. “Well, I still owe your mother.”

Malfoy shakes his head in disbelief. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t owe anyone. The entire universe owes _you_ for killing V-Voldemort.”

Harry closes his eyes, guilt eating at him again. 

_You hear him, Harry Potter. You hear the lies that the world believes about you? You are nothing but a liar. And a hypocrite._

Go away, Harry thinks. Go. Away. He opens his eyes and meets Malfoy’s own. “I didn’t do it for them.” It’s not completely true. He did it for his parents. He did it for himself. And yes, he did do it for the innocents who were affected by the whole saga. But he did it mainly because of his parents. And because he finally wanted to be normal. Funny how that worked out.

They fall silent again, neither breathing a word. Harry looks back out the window. Where are Ron and Hermione? He needs them. His breath is coming out unevenly and his heart is racing. He can’t breathe. At that moment, the door slides open again and Hermione and Ron step inside. Harry can see that they are confused by Malfoy’s presence, but they don’t say anything. They have learnt not to push Harry or question him. Or talk to him about anything serious, really. A lot has changed since the war. The secrets, for one thing, are something that neither of his friends are used to. They have always been a unit, banding together and going against the rules as a team. But now Harry is doing this alone. He has secrets, they know he has secrets, and he refuses to tell them his secrets. None of them know how to handle this new dynamic. 

“Harry!” Hermione says cheerfully, sitting down beside him. “We were looking for you.” She glances at Malfoy. “Hello, Draco,” she says, forcing a smile. Hermione has been taking the whole united front in promoting peace rather seriously, much to Ron and Harry’s amusement. Malfoy just stares at her with an eyebrow raised. His expression of utter indignance makes Harry smirk, turning his head into the window to hide his amused smile. When he looks back at Hermione, she is staring at him with a slightly startled expression on her face. It makes him realize just how long it’s been since he has smiled for real. He needs to try harder. He needs to make them all see him as whole again. He wants to be as he was before. 

Ron sits down beside Hermione, taking her hand in his. “Hey, mate. You all right?”

Harry smiles. “Yeah, Ron. I made it onto the train alive. Let’s hope we can avoid any trouble this year, yeah?” He jokes. 

The door slides open again and an elderly witch smiles down at them. “Anything from the trolley, dears?”

Harry stares at her, his mind flashing back to his first year when the trolley first rolled past. He thinks of how he bought as much as possible to share with Ron, his first friend. He looks around him now. Ron is still there. And Hermione is too, no longer the bossy, obnoxious girl barging in on them, but a part of them. And then there is Malfoy. His nemesis. His enemy. His rival. And… he shakes his head. He is not going there. Not right now. He looks back at the trolley lady and says, smiling broadly, “We’ll take the lot.”

He meets Ron’s gaze. His friend is grinning at him; the memories clearly coming back to him too. They gather up all the sweets and chocolates, the empty spaces on the seats filled with the packages. Harry picks up a chocolate frog, handing it over to Malfoy. Malfoy stares down at it, before raising questioning eyebrows at Harry. Harry stares at the raised eyebrows. If Malfoy isn’t careful, they’ll end up getting stuck in his hair. He clears his throat. 

“You want one?” he asks innocently. He won’t admit it, but he knows for a fact that Malfoy simply craves Chocolate Frogs. He’s watched him sneak them at meals often enough. He mentally curses himself. He needs to stop watching Malfoy so much. _That_ can never happen. No matter how much he wants it to. 

Malfoy turns up his nose. It makes Harry smile again. A small, real smile. Not the fake ones he’s had on display since Ron and Hermione stepped inside. “Come on, Malfoy. It’s not going to kill you.”

Malfoy sneers, but he takes the chocolate. He opens it up and then snorts loudly, tossing the card at Harry. “Of course,” he sneers. “I had to get _you,_ of all people, Potter.”

Harry looks down at the card to see his own face grinning back at him. He tosses the card back at Malfoy. “You keep it. I know you love to stare at me, so you might as well have a picture.”

Ron chokes on air, whilst Hermione elbows him. Malfoy’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink. But he pockets the card and takes a bite of his slightly squirming frog. 

_If I’d known you fancied Draco, everything would have been so much easier._

“I don’t fancy him,” Harry mutters.

“What?” Hermione asks, looking at him strangely. 

“Nothing, sorry,” Harry says, looking back out the window and taking a bite of his chocolate. Stay in control, Harry. Keep it together. Harry doesn’t say anything for a while.

They are half way to school when their journey takes another drastic turn, as if it isn’t bizarre enough that Draco Malfoy is sitting with the Golden Trio. Fate seems to be having a laugh today. Harry’s glad someone is. Because he certainly isn’t when the compartment door swings open and Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini step inside. Pansy takes a seat beside Malfoy, smirking. Hermione’s cheerful expression falters for a second, before she takes a large breath. 

“Hello Pansy. Blaise.” Her voice is slightly strained, but her smile is large. 

Ron coughs lightly, shooting a glance at Harry, who shrugs back, before echoing Hermione’s words. Ron manages a nod, but his throat seems clogged up if the choking noises wheezing out of him are anything to go by. Parkinson sneers, before curling up on the seat, her head in Malfoy’s lap. Zabini, however, stands before Harry, and when Harry says hello, Zabini leans forward and scoops up Harry’s hand. 

“Harry,” Zabini says, pressing a kiss to Harry’s hand. 

Harry blinks, before pulling away hastily and glaring. “What are you _doing,_ Zabini?”

Zabini chuckles. “Showing my respects to the Saviour.” Harry glowers. Unable to control his temper, he stands, placing his hands on Zabini’s chest and shoving him backwards so that the Slytherin falls onto the seat. “Sod off, Zabini. I’m not a bloody saviour!”

Zabini raises an eyebrow – what is with these Slytherin’s and their eyebrows? – and says, “No? Last I heard, it was you that offed the Dark Lord. That makes you our champion, Potter.”

Harry runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Then he collapses back into his seat and stares out the window. He refuses to speak for the rest of the journey. 

When they arrive at Hogwarts, the sun has long since set. The Golden Trio happily flee from the Slytherin infestation.. Harry mentally curses himself for inviting Malfoy to join him in the first place. What was he thinking? This is Malfoy. Slytherin’s Prince. Voldemort’s servant. Harry’s enemy. He needs to remember that. He sighs as he walks into the Great Hall, newly built, with Ron and Hermione at his side. Just because he wants more with Malfoy, doesn’t mean it is ever going to happen. 

You see, Harry first realized he was in love with Malfoy when the other boy returned to school in third year looking more grown up than before and wearing his hair un-gelled for the first time. Harry had ignored the butterflies in his stomach as he didn’t understand what they were. But that was also the year he saw Parkinson and Malfoy kissing on the Quidditch Pitch. It was obvious to what he was feeling after that. He’s sure it would clue anyone in if they saw their enemy kissing someone and wished that it was _himself_ said enemy was kissing instead. Harry had tried to ignore the realization, but as the many months and years, had drawn on, he had only become more and more attracted to the arrogant git. And then the bathroom incident happened and Harry had never been more terrified than when he saw the blood pooling around Malfoy’s body. After that, there was no point denying it. No, he didn’t announce it to the world – or to anyone, in fact. But he stopped lying to himself. So, he loved Draco Malfoy, his enemy, who served his other enemy, who wanted him dead. So, what? Harry loved him. He would just have to deal with it. Then the war had happened and there hadn’t been any time to think about any of it. The next time Harry even thought about his feelings was when the fire happened in the Room of Hidden Things. But even that moment had been fleeting and dimmed by the knowledge that he had to die and everything that had followed. No, the next time he really thought about it was when he saw the Malfoy trials announced in the Daily Prophet and he knew without a shadow of doubt that he _could not_ let Draco Malfoy be sent to Azkaban. So, he’d spoken at the trial, making sure that the idiot boy was safe, and that was that. But then he had been roped into rebuilding Hogwarts and he’d been forced to see Malfoy every single bloody day. And now, here they both are, at Hogwarts again, and Harry knows without a doubt that it won’t be long until they are tossing insults at each other like old times. Harry’s sort of looking forward to it. 

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and sits down at the Gryffindor table beside Ron. He glances around, wondering which others from his year would be returning for the added 8thyear. He spots Parkinson, Malfoy and Zabini at the Slytherin table, looking for all the world as though they don’t give a shit about anyone or anything. Harry knows that isn’t true, but he chooses to ignore it and move on.

Well done, Harry, he congratulates himself. Progress. No more obsessive behaviour towards the blond Slytherin prat. 

He looks over at the Ravenclaw table. Anthony Goldstein is there, sitting beside Michael Corner. Harry doesn’t see any other Ravenclaws from their year. He looks at the Hufflepuff table next. Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones are sitting together, chatting happily. Harry nearly jumps out of his skin when he turns back around to find more of his friends sat at the table. Neville, Seamus and Dean. They grin at him and he grins back, feeling lighter than he has in months.

“Heya, Harry,” Neville says. “Doin’ alright?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, you?”

“Yeah.”

The returning Gryffindors start chatting about their summers cheerfully, all of them determined not to mention the war or tragedies they have experienced. As Dean is busy telling a story about some poor Muggle girl he had accidently Obliviated, Ginny plops herself down next to Harry and grins. 

“Hello, boys,” she says, before turning her attention to Harry. “Hey, Harry.”

Harry forces himself to smile at her. “Hey, Ginny.” He takes in her silky red hair, wide eyes and beautiful face, but he just can’t force the butterflies to appear. He knows that he can no longer force something that isn’t there. He sighs. He had thought he could be happy with Ginny. He really had. His feelings for her might not have been as strong as those he has for Malfoy, but he _had_ liked her enough to date her. Now all he sees when he looks at her is family. Not some epic romance.

Ginny sighs, echoing him. She leans closer and whispers softly in his ear, “It’s okay. I know you don’t want to get back together. You would have said something if you did. Friends?”

Harry blinks at her. Ginny smiles sweetly. “It’s okay,” she says again. 

Harry breathes out in relief and pulls her into a side hug. “Friends. Always, Gin.”

Their conversation ends abruptly when Headmistress McGonagall steps up to speak. “Welcome back, students. Now before the Sorting Ceremony begins, I wish to have a serious word with you all. Recent events may have brought with them a certain amount of unease towards… specific houses. I ask that you put this prejudice aside. Our Houses are important to us, and I will not stand for students being mistreat due to what House they are Sorted into. We did not fight a war so that hatred can thrive. The people we love did not die so that resentment and mistakes from the past could be repeated. We are one. We are a school and we must stand together. We must move forward. Anyone caught bullying or shaming a member from another house or their own house, will be dealt with severely. Am I clear?”

There is a collective hum throughout the hall and Harry feels relieved. He had been worrying about the treatment of Slytherins when school began again. He can only hope that people abide my McGonagall’s words and use their common sense. 

“Right then,” McGonagall continues. “Let the Sorting Ceremony begin!”

The Great Hall’s doors fly open and the new first years are led into the room. Harry watches as they look around in awe and wonder at the Hall as they take everything in for the first time. He wonders how many of them are Muggle-born and like him, seeing magic for the first time and being blown away by the fact that _it is all real._ He tries to pay attention to the new students, but he finds it difficult to remember their names. The first student, a round girl with brown waves, is sorted into Hufflepuff. Next is a freckled boy who becomes a Ravenclaw. The next girl is a Ravenclaw. Then there is a Gryffindor. Then a Hufflepuff. Then another Hufflepuff. Then the first Slytherin is sorted – a small, fair skinned girl with flaming red hair and large green eyes. When the Hat calls out “Slytherin!” the hall falls silent for a split second, before it erupts in cheers just as loud and as enthusiastic as the rest of the first years received. After that, there are five more Slytherins, a few more Gryffindors, a pack of Hufflepuffs and several Ravenclaws.

Once the Sorting is finished, Headmistress McGonagall gets up again to speak. “Right, now that that is finished, I will remind you all of the rules. Firstly, no swimming in the lake unless you want to be eaten by the giant squid. No entering the restricted section in the library. Then, and must I impress on you just how important this rule is: no entering the Forbidden Forest. The Forest has always been unsafe, but even more so now, after recent events. Any student found in the forest will be punished most severally.” She coughs. “Now, several parts of the castle have just been rebuilt. The magic is still settling. No spells are to be cast in the hallways as this could cause serious damage to the recent spell work. That being said, let the feast begin!”

They all grin excitedly as the food appears before them and they begin to stuff their faces. Harry moans around the food in his mouth, closing his eyes. He hasn’t eaten this well in over a year. There is nothing like Hogwarts dinner. By the time dessert rolls around, Harry is stuffed, but he still manages to devour two helpings of treacle tart before calling it a day. Ron is still going strong. As the feast ends and the prefects lead the younger students to the dormitories, McGonagall asks the returning 8thyears to remain behind. They all gather at the front of the hall and Harry scans them quickly to see if there is anyone he didn’t spot at dinner. No… there is only thirteen of them. He swallows, wondering what happened to everyone else, if they are okay. 

“Now,” McGonagall begins, standing tall before them, “things will be a bit different for you as you are adults. You have a tower to yourselves which is away from the younger students. You each have your own bedroom; however, you will share bathrooms. You will also have your own common room. Your actions will still allow you to gain or lose points from your houses. You will still be a part of the school; I am just granting you more freedom. You may go to Hogsmeade every Saturday, so long as you do not go alone. The other school rules still apply to you. You will be taking your classes with the 7th years. Now, let me give you your timetables.”

They all wait patiently as McGonagall calls them out one at a time to receive their timetables. When Harry receives his, he glances down at it, examining it closely. Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology and Charms. All the classes he needs to be an Auror and the ones he took during 6th year. Harry just isn’t so sure that he wants to be an Auror anymore. But he enjoys the subjects enough and if he changes his mind about his career choice, his subjects don’t necessarily matter. 

Once they all have their timetables, they are led from the Hall to their new tower. When they reach the portrait – a white, fluffy dog that yaps incessantly – McGonagall turns to them and says, “There is no password. This door has been attuned to each of you. It will recognize you, as well as your magic. You must simply place your hand on the portrait and it will open.”

“Neat,” Ron whispers to Harry, who nods in agreement. They each take a turn to place their hands on the portrait before entering their new dorms. When Harry steps inside, he is amazed to see the common room is the perfect blend of all four houses, the colours mixed together, and the style set to suit them all. There are two sets of stairs that spiral out of the room. One is labelled ‘Girls’ whilst the other is labelled ‘Boys’. Harry and Ron bid goodnight to Hermione – Ron pressing a soft kiss to her lips – before they walk up the stairs labelled ‘Boys’. They reach the top of the stairs and find themselves facing a long, narrow corridor. At the end of the corridor is a door with the word ‘Bathroom’ above it. On the left and right of the corridor are several doors leading off into what Harry assumes are bedrooms. He moves over to one and gasps lightly when he sees the oak wood of the door up close. The wood has moving pictures engraved into it. The intricate designs dance across the surface in ripples, marking the door. This specific door has a Quidditch match being played on it, as well as a dog that won’t stop running around the handle. Harry leans closer, squinting at it, and then laughs. 

“Ron, this is your room.”

Ron frowns. “How do you know? A fair few of us play Quidditch.”

Harry grins, feeling happy. “Yeah, but not all of us have a Jack Russel Terrier as our patronus.”

Ron gawks, pushing past Harry to look closer. “Wicked,” he breathes, his fingers brushing over the playful puppy, before he puts his hand on the handle opens the door, stepping inside his new room.. Harry moves onto the next door, looking carefully at the engravings. There is a snitch fluttering around the wood, its little wings beating frantically. A large stag is standing proudly on the edge of a forest. Harry smiles slightly, then freezes when he sees the images nearing the stag.

Another stag, bigger than the first. A large dog, and beside them, a wolf. Harry feels his lips part slightly as he reaches out and touches his fingertips to the animals. He stares at the picture, watching as the animals play together, dancing across the door. Harry closes his eyes for a moment, steadying his breathing, before he looks down at the handle, resting his fingers on it. Above the handle, written in neat cursive, are the words _until the very end._ Harry gasps. Then the words shimmer and fade away. 

Quickly, he pushes the door open and steps into his new bedroom. He looks around, taking it all in. The room is cozy. There is his old Gryffindor 4 post bed in the corner of the room. There is a cupboard against one wall, a wooden desk and a bookshelf on another wall where all his school books have already been placed. The wall is painted Gryffindor red and the ceiling is charmed like the one in the Great Hall, the night sky twinkling down on him. Above the desk, his Firebolt is hanging on display. Harry smiles softly. Maybe everything really will be okay. 

Exhaustion hits him suddenly and he gets out of his clothes before falling into his soft bed, eyes closing. He snuggles deep under the covers, sighing contently into his pillow. Soon enough, he falls into the realm of restless dreams. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three**

_You're on the other side_

_As the skyline splits in two_

_I'm miles away from seeing you_

_I can see the stars_

_From America_

_I wonder, do you see them, too?_

-All of the Stars, Ed Sheeran

**Harry**

When Harry steps inside the classroom for the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year, he is struck by a horrible realization. If anyone disarms him, the Elder Wand will belong to _them._ Now if he’d returned the wand to Dumbledore, as he’d told his friends, it wouldn’t be an issue. The wand would be gone, left for the rest of time. However, like the idiot that he is, he’s kept the wand for safe keeping. And now he’s in trouble. 

He frowns for a moment. Will a duel in class be enough? he knows that for most wands, they only switch allegiance when it is in a serious duel or form of combat. He could disarm Hermione a million times in Defence and her wand would still belong to her. But the Elder Wand is different. It is temperamental. It possesses no loyalty. It does not develop an attachment. It will jump from master to master willingly. And Harry suddenly realizes that he has no idea just what will cause the Elder Wand to abandon him. No idea at all. He takes his seat, Ron and Hermione beside him. He smiles at them, before looking away. He shrugs to himself. The solution to his problem is simple; don’t get disarmed. Sure, he doesn’t know if being disarmed is enough for the Elder Wand, but he can’t risk it. So, he’ll just have to be careful. 

He nearly jumps out of his seat when the door slams open, startling him, and a tall, dark haired man walks in. Harry watches him carefully, wondering who the new teacher is (he hadn’t been at the feast). The man stops at the front of the classroom and turns to face them. Harry can hear some of the girls giggling instantly. The man is attractive. He appears to be young, in his mid-twenties. He has dark brown hair, hanging close to his collar in light waves. He also has a wispy fringe that hangs just above chocolate eyes. He is tanned, has a light layer of stubble, and is incredibly sexy. Harry blushes and looks down at his desk. Now is not the time to start crushing on a teacher. A male teacher. No. 

He sighs, shifting in his seat. Out of the corner of his eye he spots Malfoy, sitting beside Zabini and looking as though he’d rather be anywhere but here. The tension falls from Harry’s body. The man is nowhere near as beautiful as Malfoy. 

“Good morning, class!” The man says, his Scottish accent leaking through. “My name is Professor Puck Gwydion. I am your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher this year.” Professor Gwydion pauses and scans the classroom. His eyes rest for a moment longer on Harry, no doubt recognizing him, before they continue scanning the room. “Now I know you probably can’t be bothered with introductions, but I would like us to go around the classroom and say our names so that I can get to know you all.”

Some people groan, others (mostly girls, Harry notes) nod enthusiastically. Harry just meets Ron’s gaze and shrugs, not bothered either way. As the 7th years say their names (they had all gathered on one side of the room whilst the returning 8th years, most of whom are taking Defense, have gathered on the other) Harry stares at the wall idly. He’s tired, exhausted even. He barely got any sleep last night. Yet again, it’s not like that’s new. When has he ever had a decent night’s sleep? What with old Voldy plaguing his dreams day and night. 

“Harry,” Ron hisses, elbowing him. 

Harry jolts from his thoughts to find the class and Professor Gwydion watching him. He coughs. “Umm, I’m Harry.”

The Professor raises an eyebrow. “Full names. No exceptions.”

Harry blushes. “Harry James Potter,” he mumbles. 

Professor Gwydion nods and moves on to Ron. Harry sighs. Once the introductions are finished, Professor Gwydion claps his hands together and grins. “Now, I know that you started working on this in 6th year. But your school year last year wasn’t the most… efficient. And for some of you,” he looks pointedly at the Golden Trio, “it has been a while since you have had any schooling at all. So, today we will focus on non-verbal spells. Your opponent will attempt to verbally hex or jinx you, whilst you will try to non-verbally block it. After a few attempts, you will switch positions and attempt the other non-verbal spell.” 

Harry ends up being paired with Ginny. They have a good laugh as they attempt to non-verbally hex each other. Harry is better at it than Ginny, but after a few tries she is tossing one non-verbal after the other. Harry ends up getting hit and he stumbles, falling over. He laughs loudly as he pushes himself into a sitting position and beams at Ginny. 

“Great job, Gin!” 

“Yes, well done, Miss Weasley,” Professor Gwydion says as he passes them by. 

Ginny blushes. Harry is just about to make a comment when his head starts pounding and he pales, realizing what is about to happen. 

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he blurts out to the Professor, who is still watching them. 

Not waiting for a response, Harry flees to the nearest bathroom and locks himself in a cubicle. He casts a Silencing Charm on the cubicle, before sitting on the closed toilet seat. He leans his elbows on his knees and clutches his head as the pounding grows worse. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. 

_Hello, Harry._

“Go away,” Harry mumbles, rocking slightly as unbearable pain flares through his skull. “Go away.”

_I don’t think so. I like these moments, don’t you?_ _Moments when I am stronger than you. Moments where I control your body instead of you. How long do you think you can keep me locked up, mm, Potter? How long!?_

Harry screams as another jolt of pain shoots through him, his mind exploding. He falls to the floor as his body starts to shake and tremble. Sweat drips down his face and his legs jerk as he curls up on the floor. He knows he’s screaming loudly, vaguely aware of it, and he hopes that his Silencing Charm worked properly. Then his world goes black and he knows nothing but pain. 

When he comes around – he’s not sure how long it’s been – there is dried blood on his face, from where his nose bled. He can feel the sticky substance. He casts a quick spell, cleaning himself up, before leaning back against the wall, his knees to his chest. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply. His head is throbbing dimly, but the pain he felt a few minutes ago is gone. He is alone in his mind again. Harry wants to cry. But he doesn’t let himself. He must be strong. He has to hold on, for the sake of everybody else. He must protect them. And to do that, he has to be fully in control. He needs to find a way to fix this, before it gets even worse. 

Finally, he stands and slips out of the cubicle. He walks over to the sink and turns on the tap, splashing water on his face. Then he glances up and looks in the mirror. His eyes are slightly red and his hair is a mess as usual. His face is pale. He sighs, wondering how long he’s been gone. Merlin, if he’s been gone too long, people will think he has stomach issues or something. 

“Blimey, Potter, you look like shit.”

Harry spins around to see Draco Malfoy standing there, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. Harry instinctively reaches for his wand. Malfoy tuts. 

“Going to have another fight in the bathroom, are we, Potter?”

Harry pales as he remembers last time and he lets his hand drop from his wand. 

“What’s wrong, Potter? Too scared to finish what you started last time? Go on, I dare you. You know you want to.”

Harry scowls. “Sod off, Malfoy. If I wanted you dead I would have left you to burn.”

Malfoy snorts. “No, you wouldn’t have. Saint Potter. It would have tarnished your image. Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, but oh! He left his school mates to die. Wouldn’t have looked good, would it, Scarhead?” 

Harry grinds his teeth together. Don’t do anything stupid. Breathe. Be the better person. Don’t kill him. That’s it, Harry. Calm down. 

“Why are you here, Malfoy?” Harry grits out. Malfoy examines his nails, before pushing himself off the wall and walking out the bathroom. 

“You’ve been gone 10 minutes,” he calls over his shoulder. “Your fans were worried about you. I told them you were probably taking a shite, but they wouldn’t listen.”

Harry closes his eyes. Count to ten. One, two, three-

“Coming, Potty?” 

Harry opens his eyes, fuming, and stalks after Malfoy, desperate to murder the insufferable prat. But he doesn’t. He would hate himself for it later. 

They reach the classroom just as the lesson is ending. Harry scoops up his belongings and walks out the room with Ron and Hermione. They look at him in concern. 

“You all right, mate?” Ron asks. “You went awful pale suddenly. Then you just ran out.”

Harry smiles weakly. “Felt a bit dizzy. I just needed some air.”

Hermione places a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay now, Harry? Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I’m good. Honestly.” He stops outside the Charms classroom. “What subjects are you even taking this year, Hermione?”

Hermione’s expression brightens at the topic. “Oh, not too many. Defence, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Herbology, History of Magic, Astronomy, Runes and Arithmancy.”

Harry and Ron blink at her. “Right,” Harry says slowly. “You, Ron?”

Ron reaches up and brushes the hair out of his eyes as he replies with, “The same as you, mate.”

Harry smiles in relief. They walk into the Charms classroom together and Harry braces himself for the class. He can do this. He has to. 

**Draco**

Draco flops onto Pansy’s bed with a groan, burying his face in her pillow. She glances at him from where she is perched at her desk, before looking back at her essay and continuing with her work. Draco watches her for a few moments, waiting. Finally, she puts her quill down and turns to look at him, an eyebrow raised. 

“What is it, Draco?”

He groans again. “Potter is being infuriating, as usual. Did you see how he behaved in Defence this morning? Oh, my name’s Harry. What? Full names? I’m Harry fucking James Potter, you should recognize me from my atrocious hair and idiot face!”

Pansy just nods. Draco continues with his rant. “I mean, honestly. Perfect Potter. Saint Potter. Thinks he’s better than the rest of us just because he offed the bloody Dark Lord! Well, sod him, Pansy! Sod him! Some of us had to protect our families! Some of us didn’t have a choice!”

Pansy gets up from her seat and saunters over to the bed. She lies down next to him and places a hand on his shoulder. “Better now?”

Draco closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Sorry.”

Pansy smirks. “You think you’ve got it bad? I’ve already had five people try to hex me because I tried to give their precious Potter to the Dark Lord.”

Draco sits up abruptly. “People have tried to hex you? Who? Tell me, Pans! I’ll deal with them.”

Pansy laughs lightly and tugs him back down onto the bed. “No, Draco, darling. You’re on probation. One wrong move and it’s Azkaban for you.”

Draco grumbles, but doesn’t argue. Pansy slowly starts running her fingers through his hair, sighing softly. Neither says a word for a long time. 

When it’s time for supper, they finally climb off the bed. They meet Blaise in the common room and they walk together to the Great Hall, as a unit. As they enter the hall, Draco can feel the disgusted and hate filled eyes on them, but they hold their heads high and saunter over to their table. They play it cool, like always. They talk loudly, they laugh, they eat enough food for 10 people. They act like they have always acted, as though they are the most important people on earth and people should be honoured by their presence. But they know that the other is trembling inside. They understand that those glances, full of pure hatred, are actually tearing the other down. Blaise cracks jokes throughout the ordeal, trying to keep the mood light. But the second dessert is finished, they flee to their rooms again. 

In the common room, Draco bids Pansy and Blaise goodnight, pressing a kiss to Pansy’s cheek. Then he slips up to his room. He rushes his night routine, choosing to use spells for hygiene purposes rather than to face the bathroom. He has seen enough of the 8th year Gryffindor boys today, he doesn’t need to see them again. He climbs into bed, sighing. He is practically stuck to Potter. As the day went on, it became more and more obvious that majority of their classes are together.

Thankfully, after snagging a look at Potter’s timetable during Potions, he knows that he doesn’t have all his lessons with Potter. Draco is taking Potions, Defence, Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy and Runes this year. That means he has two classes without the obnoxious git. 

Draco rolls over, closing his eyes. He tries to shut off his brain, to calm his mind. Sleep doesn’t come for a very long time. 

**Harry**

Harry is sitting at his desk in his bedroom, a few hours after dinner, when he feels it. The prickle of a gaze on his neck. He puts his quill down slowly, closing his eyes. The presence doesn’t leave him. Harry opens his eyes and stares down at his Charms essay. 

“What do you want?” he grinds out. 

He feels the person shift behind him. “So, it’s true, then? What they say?”

It’s a little girls voice. Harry turns, standing. There she is. Dark haired, blue eyed. Dressed in a colourful coat, scarf and hat. Rainbow wellies. She looks barely older than nine years of age. It makes Harry feel sick. 

“What do they say?” he asks. 

The girl cocks her head to the side and raises a mitten clad hand to brush the hair from her face. “You can see us. All of us. That you should be _one_ of us.” Harry closes his eyes again, briefly. “Yes. I suppose I should be. But I’m not.”

“They say you’re his master,” the little girl persists. “That you can control him.”

Harry laughs bitterly. His master? Oh, how he wishes that were so. Everything would be much simpler then. He would be able to fix so many wrongs. But no – he wouldn’t. Because no one should have that much power. Not even him. He supposes that the universe knew that, all those years ago, and it morphed the stories – changed their meaning. Harry is no one’s master. Rather, he played with fire and now he is starting to slowly burn for his actions and mistakes. 

“No,” he says at last. “I don’t control him. I am not his master.” For no one – human or otherwise – can be the master of Death. 

The little girl looks sad at that, her bottom lip trembling. “You can’t make him give me back?”

Harry shakes his head. “It’s time for you to go _on,”_ he says gently.

The little girl stares at her feet. Harry sits back down at his desk, picking up his quill. A moment later, he feels the presence waver, then vanish. He doesn’t have to turn around to know that she is gone. He lets his head fall forward, resting on the wooden surface. Wearily, he closes his eyes. He wonders what happened to the little girl. He wonders who she was and who she is. He wonders where she came from. He wonders about her family. He wonders….

Harry jolts awake a while later, his neck stiff from the awkward sleeping position. He sits up, rubbing at his neck and wincing lightly. He casts a quick Tempus and sighs when he realizes that it has barely past midnight. He glances over at his inviting bed, but he knows without a doubt that he won’t be able to sleep another wink tonight. 

He stands, yawning slightly. He scratches his stomach lightly as he looks around his room. With a sigh, he decides to venture down into the common room. He slips quietly out of his room, cautious of his year mates trying to sleep. He tiptoes down the stairs and into the common room, before freezing. 

Draco Malfoy is lying on his stomach by the fire, his knees bent, and his ankles crossed, as his long fingers idly turn the page of a book. He is wearing silky pyjama trousers and a plain grey t-shirt. 

Malfoy looks up from his book, sees Harry, and sneers. Then he returns to his novel. Harry hesitates for a moment, before shrugging to himself. What the hell, right? He walks over to the sofa and flops onto it, lying in a sprawl across the entire thing. He stares at the ceiling, before tilting his head slightly so that he can watch Malfoy. He can’t see the cover of the book, so he has no idea what Malfoy is reading, but whatever it is, he looks completely enraptured by it. His eyes widen occasionally, as though he has read something surprising or shocking. Occasionally a small smile – a real smile, not a smirk or sneer – lights up his face and he bites back what appears to be laughter. 

Harry is fascinated by it, unable to tear his eyes away from Malfoy’s glowing face. Harry is unsure how long it has been, when Malfoy closes the book and stands. He wipes off his t-shirt, before meeting Harry’s gaze, nodding curtly, and sauntering from the room and back up the stairs. Harry continues to stare at the fire for a long time after that, lost in his thoughts. He has no idea what just happened, but it was… nice. A peaceful, gentle calmness, with no insults or hexes. Harry can’t help but wish that it could be like that all the time. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four**

_Someone told me, "always say what's on your mind" And I am only being honest with you, I_

_I get lonely and make mistakes from time to time_

_So no men call ya, bibia be ye ye_

-Bibia be ye ye, Ed Sheeran

**Harry**

They fall into a routine. Every night, around midnight, Harry tiptoes down into the common room to find Malfoy reading by the fire. Malfoy always looks up, sneers, then returns to his book, whilst Harry lies on the couch, thinking or watching him. Then, after about an hour, Malfoy will get up, nod at Harry, and head up to bed. They never speak. 

Harry is happy with this arrangement. When he wakes up from a particularly awful nightmare, he no longer lies in bed, alone and afraid. Instead, he goes downstairs to Malfoy. It’s comforting. 

They are three weeks into the term when things start to change. The 8th years are all huddled on the floor by the fire, except the Slytherins, who are sprawled on the couch and ignoring the rest of them, when Seamus and Dean walk in, carrying a couple large bags. They place them in the centre of the room, before sharing a sly grin with each other. Dean reaches into one of the bags and pulls out a bottle of Firewhisky. 

Hermione gasps. “What have you got that for?” Seamus beams. “We thought it was time to liven things up. There is plenty more where that came from,” he says, eyeing the bags on the floor. He bends down and pulls out a shot glass. The other 8th years watch in amazement as Dean and Seamus pour a shot glass full for each of them, handing them out, until every person in the room – including the Slytherin’s – has a shot glass of Firewhisky in their hands. 

“Now,” Dean says, settling down by the fire, “how about a round of Never Have I Ever? And with a twist too. There’s this spell we’ve found. If we cast it on each of us, we all have to tell the truth. It doesn’t force you to be honest, but if you choose to answer the question, only truthful things can come out of your mouth.”

Hermione glances down at the shot glass uneasily. “I don’t think this is a good idea…”

Michael Corner laughs. “Come on, Hermione. You’ve broken plenty of school rules over the years, don’t deny it. Besides, it’s a Friday. No school tomorrow. What will a few drinkshurt?”

They all – some more reluctant than others – agree. Soon, all the 8th years are gathered in a circle, eyeing each other slightly uncomfortably. Harry finds himself sandwiched between Neville and Ron. Seamus grins. After they’ve all consented, Malfoy looking extremely put out, Dean casts the spell on each of them. Harry shifts uncomfortably. He knows that the spell isn’t like veritaserum. He won’t be forced to tell the truth. But now, from this moment on, he cannot lie until the spell has been removed. And there are plenty of things that he needs to stay hidden. 

Seamus coughs. “I’ll go first. Never have I ever had a crush on someone of the same sex.”

Harry chokes on the air. Bloody hell. The first question and his secrets are already going to be revealed. Dean laughs loudly. “The purpose of the game is to say something you’ve _never_ done, Seamus.” Seamus just shrugs. “Truth spell, remember?”

Dean frowns. “But what about 4th year when…”

Seamus grins. “The operative word in my sentence being crush. I just wanted to shag the bloke.” He looks around the room. “Well? Anyone?”

Harry scans the room, waiting to see of anyone else is going to drink. Parkinson sighs and mutters, “What the hell,” before downing her drink. Harry, ever so slowly, raises his glass to his lips, and, his eyes locked on the floor, he takes his shot. There is silence for a few seconds, before there is a loud chorus of, “Harry? Really? Who?” “But you were dating my sister?” “Potter is gay?”

Harry wants to die, but he stares at them all determinedly and shrugs. “Yes, I’ve liked a boy before. So what? Who’s going next?”

The game gets into a steady rhythm after that. There are a few ridiculous questions that they all drink to, such as never have I ever farted in public and never have I ever contemplated killing someone. When Anthony says, “Never have I ever cheated in a test,” and several of them drink, including Ron and Harry, Hermione looks scandalized. 

“You two!” She exclaims. “All that effort I go through to make sure you study and do your homework and yet you cheated!”

Harry tries to look apologetic. “’Mione, to be fair I’d just discovered that Sirius Black was my godfather. It was a rough day.”

Hermione relents, but she glares at Ron. “And you, Ronald. What’s your excuse?”

Ron looks pale. “Sirius Black broke into the dorms?” It comes out as a question, rather than a statement. Harry thinks that it’s probably because it isn’t the truth, so he can’t state it as he would the truth. 

Hermione tuts. “You two can’t blame everything on Padfoot!”

Harry and Ron share a look. Zabini coughs and they hurriedly drop the subject, returning to the game. 

When it gets to Parkinson’s turn, she smiles sweetly and says, “Never have I ever had a detention with Umbridge.”

The non-Slytherin students all tense and Harry can feel himself pale. He swallows hard, staring down at his glass, before drinking it slowly. He watches as the others do the same. Parkinson frowns. “Why do you all look as though someone has died?”

Hermione reaches over Ron to clasp Harry’s hand – the hand where Umbridge hurt him. “Detention with Umbridge,” Hermione laughs bitterly. “I wouldn’t really call it detention.”

Malfoy sneers. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry sighs, closing his eyes. “Umbridge made us write lines.” He waits for a moment, before adding, “With a blood quill.”

He opens his eyes to find Malfoy staring at him – along with Parkinson and Zabini, but Harry doesn’t care about them. “I must not tell lies,” he says quietly, rubbing his hand softly when Hermione lets go. “Over and over and over. She did it to most of the students she gave detention to.” He notices the Slytherin’s eyes drop to his hand. He swallows. “Next question.”

Hannah Abbot looks around, then smirks and says, “Never have I ever fantasized about a teacher.” Beside her, Susan Bones elbows her and glares, before swallowing her drink swiftly. Seamus beams. “Ooh, do tell us, Susan.”

She grinds her teeth together. “Professor Lockhart.”

They all laugh, the Trio meeting each other’s gazes as they think about their second-year adventure. “I wonder what happened to dear old Lockhart,” Hannah muses. 

Hermione snorts and Harry is trembling as he tries to hold back his laughter. Ron coughs, his face bright red. Anthony leans forward. “What are you three hiding?” Harry looks up at Ron. They stare at each other for a few seconds before they both burst out into loud, carefree laughter. Eventually, Ron manages to get out, “Basilisk. The Chamber. Lockhart,” before he collapses into hysterics all over again. It’s Hermione who finally manages to explain it. “When the Basilisk was in Hogwarts in second year andthe Chamber of Secrets was opened, Ginny was taken into the Chamber. So Ron and Harry went after her.” She pauses, smiling. “They took Lockhart, him being the Defence teacher and all. Only, it turns out he can’t do spells at all! Only memory charms. And all those things he wrote about were actually done by other witches and wizards, but he

Obliviated them and claimed their successes as his own. So, Lockhart grabs Ronald’s wand, planning on Obliviating Harry and Ron. But that year, Ron’s wand had been broken and all his spells backfired.” She giggles then. “Lockhart wiped his own memory. He’s been in St Mungos ever since.”

There is a collective silence. Harry glances around, a wide grin on his face. He ends up giggling slightly with Ron again. Soon, a few of the others join in, laughing lightly at the sordid tale. Susan looks most distraught. “Poor Professor Lockhart,” she says, dabbing an eye. “He deserved so much better.” This only makes the rest of them laugh more. It’s Susan’s turn now, and, after drying her tears, she says, “Never have I ever been an animagus.”

Hannah sticks out her tongue but drinks the shot. Surprisingly, so does Malfoy. Harry stares at him in shock, but when he sees Harry’s gaze, he just shrugs and looks away. Parkinson smirks, resting her head on Malfoy’s shoulder. She sneers at Harry. Harry sighs, looking down at his shot glass. His head is starting to feel fuzzy and his vision has blurred slightly. When it’s Ron’s turn, he shoots a look at Harry and Hermione, before saying, “Never have I ever used a time turner.” Harry groans loudly and downs yet another shot. “Thanks mate,” he grumbles. 

Hermione sighs and drinks her own Firewhisky. Harry glances around to find the rest of the 8th years looking at him expectantly. Oh, he thinks. They want to know when and why. He chews his lip as he remembers third year. He thinks about how he and Hermione managed to save Buckbeak and Sirius. He remembers how happy and alive he felt. How he realized, in that moment, that despite his parents being dead and the Dursley’s being such awful people, he did in fact have a family. He had Remus and Sirius. People who loved his parents and would gladly let Harry be a part of their lives. But now… now they are both dead. Now everyone who cared for him is gone. He has no one. No family. No home. 

He shakes his head. “No. No more stories. In fact, no more questions. I’m done for tonight.” He stands, yawning tiredly. 

_Don’t be a spoil sport, Harry. I was having fun learning all your friend’s secrets._

Harry freezes. No. No, no, no. Go away. GO AWAY. He bids goodnight to the group and runs off to his room, rubbing at his scar as the familiar sting burns into his skull. He winces as he shrugs off his clothes and tugs on his checked pyjama pants and a plain green t-shirt. He slips under the covers of his bed and curls in on himself. The voice in his head continues taunting him and Harry places his hands over his ears as he tries to block it all out. 

“Go away,” he whimpers. “Please just go away. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He promised. He promised!”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the salty liquid of his tears falls onto his lips. He sniffs, feeling utterly pathetic and completely drained. The alcohol is still coursing through his veins, making him feel slightly ill. He pushes it all away. He reaches over to his bedside table and pulls open the drawer. He stares down at the bottles inside, knowing he shouldn’t take the potion. It’s unhealthy to become dependent on it. But he’s so tired and he hasn’t used the Dreamless Sleep in nearly a month. So, he decides to unscrew the lid of the small vial and downs a small dosage. He falls asleep instantly. 

Harry blinks into consciousness sometime later. His head is pounding and his mouth tastes horrible. He yawns, rubbing at his sleepy eyes. He mumbles out a quick Tempus and sighs when he sees that it’s just before 1am. Great. So much for Dreamless Sleep helping him to have a goodnights rest. He rolls back over in the bed and closes his eyes. Maybe he can doze off again. After all, he is tired. It shouldn’t be too hard.

He jolts up in bed, his eyes widening. Shit! Malfoy will be in the common room. He’ll be _leaving_ the common room. Harry scrambles out of bed, then grips the post of the bed as his world spins violently. He squeezes his eyes shut. Damn it. He shouldn’t have taken so many shots.

Harry waits a few more moments, trying to centre himself. When the world stops turning, he walks from the room and, as fast as he can go without dying, makes his way to the common room. Malfoy is still lying by the fire, but he is frowning slightly. He glances towards the staircase and freezes when he sees Harry. Then his usual sneer covers his face and he returns to his book. Harry smiles to himself. Malfoy is still here. Good. 

Harry flops onto the couch like usual, watching Malfoy read out the corner of his eye. He loves seeing Malfoy like this. He is so dishevelled and relaxed. He looks more human than he does during the day, when he is keeping up appearances and his clothes and hair are always so perfect. But right here, in the glow of the fire, as he reads his book with a considerable amount of concentration, he looks like any other 18-year-old boy. He looks truly beautiful. 

Harry takes a deep breath, decision made. He is going to do it. He is going to break this careful pattern they have established. He is going to break the silence. 

“What are you reading?”

Malfoy looks over at him, expression as calm and collected as ever, but his eyes hold a small amount of curiosity. Malfoy looks back down at his book and turns a page. “Advanced Rune Translation.” Harry laughs lightly. Of course he is. “Do you read fiction ever?” he enquires. 

Malfoy glowers at him. “Yes, Potter.”

Harry sits up on the sofa, leaning forward. “They’re books, aren’t they? The parcels you get at breakfast twice a week.”

Malfoy raises an eyebrow and Harry realizes what he just said. Horror fills him. Merlin, now Malfoy will know that Harry _watches him at breakfast._

“Stalking me again, Potter? I’m not planning a murder if that’s what you’re worried about,” he drawls. 

“I’m not worried,” Harry says hurriedly. “Or stalking you. I just noticed, is all. I watch you a lot.”

Malfoy smirks and returns to his book. Harry, on the other hand, wants to die from humiliation. 

“Malfoy.”

Malfoy groans and sits up, closing his book. “What, Potter?” he snaps. 

“I just… ask your mum to send some fiction.” Malfoy glares, standing. He starts to walk away. 

“Please, Malfoy.”

He stops, turns to look back at Harry. “Fine, Potter. I’ll get you some books. Although I don’t see why you can’t just order whatever you want yourself.” Harry just grins. “Thanks, Malfoy.”

Malfoy shakes his head in disbelief. “Demented. Absolutely barmy,” he mutters to himself. Then he coughs and says, “By the way, Potter. You never got the honesty spell removed. You ran off before anyone could say anything.” Then he walks out of the common room. Harry flops back onto the couch. Damn it. He’ll have to see Dean first thing in the morning to get rid of the stupid spell. Harry pauses, thinks, then grins. He had a conversation with Malfoy without trying to kill the stupid git. _He had a conversation with Malfoy!_ Now if only he can get Malfoy to stop hating him. His eyes widen. Oh brilliant. He has an idea. And it might just work, if he’s lucky. He grabs a cushion off the couch and holds it to his chest, still beaming. Convince Malfoy, his enemy of several years, to not hate him. How hard can it really be? 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Five**

_Loving can heal, loving can mend your soul_

_And it's the only thing that I know, know_

_I swear it will get easier_

_Remember that with every piece of you_

_Hm, and it's the only thing we take with us when we die_

-Photograph, Ed Sheeran 

**Draco**

There is something wrong with Potter. Why else would he be joining Draco, of all people, in the common room each night, to watch him read? Draco can’t understand it. But he ignored it, because what was he supposed to do? Hex Potter? Definitely not. He is not an idiot. There is no way he will do anything that might risk him being sent to Azkaban. But then, last night, Potter went and spoke to him. Draco hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. What is Potter up to? Nothing, because he’s Potter. He’s too stupid to be plotting anything. And so, conclusion? There is something wrong with Potter. Draco sighs and puts down his quill. He’s been in his room since dinner, working on his Runes homework. He’d finished reading the book last night, after he’d left Potter in the common room as usual and returned to his room. But despite all the extra reading he has done, he is still struggling with the stupid essay they have been assigned. He lets out a frustrated groan. He needs to unwind. He needs to breathe. 

He leaves behind his school work and slips from his room. He hurriedly makes his way out of the 8thyear tower and through the castle. Once he is in the grounds, he runs towards the lake. He makes sure he is far away from the school and the other students, before he closes his eyes and lets the transformation take him. Soon enough, he is no longer Draco Malfoy, human, but Draco Malfoy, animagus. A darkish green snake to be exact. He’s not a very big snake, but he doesn’t mind. He’s fast, that’s what counts. He slithers through the grass, enjoying the feeling of being free and unobserved. No one – not a single living soul – knows what his animagus form is. It’s a safe haven for him and has been since the Dark Lord took up house in his family’s manor. 

He is lost in thought when he hears voices close by. He pauses, looking around. His little forked tongue flicks out as he scents the air. There he sees them, the Golden Trio. Potter is staring down at his feet like a chastened child, whilst Granger is lecturing him. Weasley is standing with his hands in his pockets of his trousers and looking decidedly uncomfortable. 

“We’re just worried about you, Harry,” Granger is saying. “You won’t tell us what happened that night. And I’m not asking you too. I just – _we_ just – need to know that you are okay.”

“I’m fine,” Potter protests. “And I did tell you what happened! I told you about Voldemort. I told you about the Hallows!”

The Hallows? What are the Hallows? And why is the Chosen One keeping secrets from his oh so precious friends? Trouble in paradise, is there? 

Granger sighs. “Harry, do you really think that Ronald and I can’t tell when you’re lying? Something happened that night that you don’t want us to know about. And that’s fine. We trust you. It’s just, you haven’t been yourself lately and I’m worried about you.”

Potter sighs again. Draco slithers closer silently, trying to see and hear more clearly. He is barely more than a metre away from Potter’s legs now and he stops, coiling up to listen more. 

“You’re right,” Potter says. “I am keeping things from you. But you don’t need to worry. I really am okay. I wasn’t before, I’ll give you that. But I feel better. I’m happier.”

Granger eyes him worriedly. “You have been happier lately. You’ve been smiling more.”

Weasley steps up and claps Potter on the shoulder. “We’re here for you, mate. Always have been and always will be.”

Potter smiles softly. “I know.”

Weasley and Granger say goodbye to Potter, then leave, leaving Potter alone by the lake. He watches his friends walk away, raw pain on his face. Draco has never seen him so open before. So feeling. Yet again, Potter thinks that he is alone right now. Why should he hide his emotions? Potter runs a hand over his face, muttering, “I wish I could tell them. But I can’t. I can’t put them in any more danger. Not after all they have done for me.” So Potter’s in trouble, is he? Draco slithers closer, practically touching Potter’s foot. Potter looks down, sees him and smiles. “Hello, there,” Potter says. 

Draco huffs. “Leave me alone,” he hisses. 

Potter laughs. “Sorry, sorry. I won’t touch you. I’ll go away.”

Draco freezes. Of course! Potter can speak parseltongue! How could he forget that? Changing tactics, Draco turns and slithers towards Potter. He coils around the Golden Boy’s leg, hissing, “You can understand me?”

Potter reaches down and picks Draco up, letting him coil around his arm. Draco nearly bites him when Potter runs a finger over his head. Why is Potter stroking him? He’s a snake, not a puppy! He slithers up Potter’s arm and drapes himself over his shoulders and neck. How easy it would be to coil around the Saint Potter’s throat and suffocate him. He could do it. He might be small, but he’s strong. And determined. But no, he doesn’t want Potter dead. He hasn’t wanted him dead for a long time. His hatred has long since dimmed to a dull dislike instead of the overwhelming annoyance and anger he used to feel when in the idiots’ presence. 

“Yes,” Potter replies. Now that Draco’s paying attention, he can tell that Potter is hissing, not talking. “I’m Harry.” Draco wishes he could roll his eyes, although he doesn’t think that is possible in this form. Typical Potter, befriending animals. He should have known that this is what Potter does in his spare time. Draco moves about a little bit, getting comfortable, before settling. “Your friends seemed upset,” Draco hedges. 

Potter sighs, still holding onto Draco’s tail. “Yes. I’m keeping something from them. It upsets them, that’s all. I never lie to them. It’s… hard.” Potter slowly pulls Draco off him and places him back on the floor. “I’m sorry. I need to go. It was nice meeting you.” Potter strokes him again. Draco watches as Potter glances up at the school, sighing. “Duty calls.”

With that, Potter runs off. Draco waits until he is alone, before turning back into himself. He rolls his neck and shakes out his limbs, until he is feeling human again. Well, he muses, that was odd. He coughs, clears his throat and tries out a few words, working his throat. Once his body is functioning normally, he heads off towards the school. Whatever Potter is up to, Draco is going to find out. 

The following week drags on as usual. School is torture and he misses his mother terribly, even if he will never admit it. On Thursday, his package from his mother arrives with a note attached.

**_My dearest son,_ **

**_I have sent you that new book you asked for, for_ **

**_Arithmancy. I hope it is to your satisfaction. I have also encased two novels that are supposedly_ **

**_popular in the Muggle culture. I am not sure why you asked for Muggle fiction, but I can only hope that you are building bridges with those that we have wrongfully harmed._ **

**_How is Harry? I worry about that boy. After everything he has been through, he still has such a pure heart. Be kind to him, Draco. He_ **

**_saved both of our lives. You know as well as I do that without him we’d be in Azkaban with your father. Harry is truly a pure soul._ **

**_I love you, Draco, darling. I miss you._ **

**_Your mother xxx_ **

Draco folds up the note and stows it in his pocket. He doesn’t open the parcel, not wanting Pansy, who is hanging off his arm, to see the contents. He looks over at the Gryffindor table to find Potter watching him. Potter nods towards the package, raising both eyebrows as if to say ‘well?’. Draco purses his lips and nods. The smile that breaks out over Potter’s face is unbearably hideous and Draco wants to break his nose again. Permanently. A foot collides with his shin under the table and he curses, glaring at Blaise, who sits opposite him, smiling innocently. 

“What was that with you and Potter?” Blaise asks. 

Draco scoffs, holding the package to his chest. “Nothing. There is nothing with _me and Potter._ He is an insolent child with a pathetic need for attention. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he says, detangling himself from Pansy and standing. “I want to go and grab my books before class.” With that, Draco saunters from the hall. He doesn’t get very far before he hears his name being yelled down the corridor. 

“Malfoy! Wait up!”

Draco stops. He turns around ever so slowly, scowling when he sees Potter running towards him. What is wrong with this boy? They have spent years hating each other. Despising each other. They were even on opposite sides a bloody war. And now the stupid scar headed idiot is following him around, talking to him and being friendly with him. If it wasn’t for the fact that Potter is a simpleton, he’d have thought the boy was plotting Draco’s demise.

“What do you want, Potter?” he snarls. 

Potter stops and swallows hard. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand and his face flushes a brilliant scarlet. “Did your mum send some books?”

Draco bites his tongue to stop himself from saying something far too insulting. Potter knows he got the books. They signalled at breakfast. So, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, acting in the spur of the moment, he reaches into his pocket and hands the letter from his mother to Potter. Potter takes it warily, unfolding the page. He scans it, pauses, and looks at Draco. 

“Are you sure you want me to read a letter from your mum?”

Draco rolls his eyes and holds onto the package in his arms tighter.

Potter swallows. “Right.”

Draco watches Potter as he reads the letter, watching how his expression changes to startled surprise, no doubt when he saw Narcissa’s enquiries about him. When Potter is done, he carefully folds the note and hands it back to Draco. 

“Would you mind if I write to her?”

Draco nearly chokes. “ _You_ want to write to _my_ mother?”

Potter offers him a small smile. “Yeah. Your mum seems nice, now that I’ve gotten past all the trying to kill me trauma.”

Draco stares at him. “That isn’t funny, Potter.”

Potter shrugs. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

Draco grinds his teeth. “Goodbye, Potter.” He turns to leave, but Potter grabs his arm. 

“I’ll see you tonight?” he asks. 

Draco wants to slap him. Why is Potter making something that was so easy to ignore before into something so… planned? As though they were friends organizing a day out. But despite his annoyance, Draco nods. Potter lets go of his arm. He walks calmly down the corridor and only when he is a safe distance from Potter does he start to run. Why can’t Potter just leave him alone? Draco is so lost in thought that he almost walks past the door to the 8thyear common room. He sighs, places his hand on the portrait, and pushes into the room. He hurriedly makes his way up the stairs and to his bedroom. He pauses at the door, staring at the engravings on the wood. His door, like the others, is filled with carvings that hold significant importance to him. He stares at the library – his library, at the manor – that’s carved into his door. The fire roars, and there he is, an engraving of himself, curled up on a seat by the fire, reading a book. Beside the engraved version of him is a broom that the figure sometimes flies around on. It makes him miss the good old days of quidditch. None of the 8thyears had re-joined the teams. Not even Potter. 

Draco pushes into his room, scoops up his books that he needs for the morning, and, after realizing that he is running late, quickly dashes out of the tower and towards the Defence classroom. He gets there just as Professor Gwydion is arriving. The Professor smiles at him and tells him to take his seat. He does, sliding into the desk seat beside Blaise. 

Blaise nudges him. “What did Potter want? He followed you out of the hall during breakfast.”

Draco scowls. “To be an idiot, what else? He was going on about nonsense, like usual.”

Blaise drops the subject. They both turn their attention to Gwydion, who is prattling on about some practical test they will be doing next week which will work on their nonverbal defensive spells. Draco zones out. He’s perfectly capable when it comes to non-verbal spells. He had to get good at them, what with old snake face living in his house. Draco had been so scared to speak half of the time, that he had learnt non-verbal spells simply so that he didn’t have to talk in the Dark Lord’s presence. 

Blaise elbows him, shaking him from his thoughts. “Come on,” his friend says. “We have to practice.” Draco lets himself be dragged to his feet, all the while thinking, _I cannot wait for tonight._

When night time finally arrives and Draco awakes from yet another nightmare, he climbs out of bed and grabs the package from his mother. He’d opened it earlier to find two Muggle books amongst his one for school. One called _Pride and Prejudice_ and another called _To Kill a Mockingbird._ Draco takes out _Pride and Prejudice_ and makes his way downstairs to the empty common room. He flicks his wand towards the fire, lighting it, and then settles down on his stomach to read, like usual. However, before he can even open the first page, Potter appears, early. Draco scowls, but he cannot deny the slight tingle of _satisfaction_ that Potter is here. Potter flops onto the couch in an undignified manner, as usual. He tilts his head towards Draco, beaming unnaturally widely. 

“Have you started the book yet?” he asks. 

Draco scoffs. “No.”

Potter just smiles wider. “Good.” He pauses, flushes, fidgets with the hem of his pyjama top. “Malfoy, would you… would you read out loud? Please?”

Draco blinks. He’s stunned. He never expected _that_ when Potter asked about fiction. Potter wants him to read to him? The old Malfoy, before the war, would have teased Potter mercilessly. His nemesis wants a bedtime story, for heaven’s sake. But then he thinks about the people they are now. Whilst they may not be friends and they still pick on each other mercilessly during class, in the calm of the night, they are different. Not friends, no. But no longer enemies. 

He glances down at the book in his hands, then back at Potter contemplating. He could read this ridiculous Muggle book by himself – because he has it now, so no matter what, he will read it – or he could read it to Potter.

He sighs. “All right. I suppose.”

Potter sighs in evident relief. “Great. Thanks.”

Draco coughs and looks down at his book. “Right… well.” He clears his throat. “ _Pride and Prejudice,_ by Jane Austin. Chapter one. _It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters…”_

Draco glances over at Potter. Potter is lying on the couch, his eyes closed as he listens. When Draco stops, he opens one eye, squinting over at Draco. “Why’d you stop?” Draco coughs and looks back at the book. _““My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?” Mr Bennet replied that he had not.”_

As they get further into the book and Draco grows more confident with his reading, he starts to add in voices and expressions to the characters. He is partially through the 5thchapter, when he glances over at Potter again to find him fast asleep on the sofa. Draco pauses, staring. Potter looks different like this. His hair falls in his face in an even greater tangled mess than usual. His expression is relaxed, his brow smooth. He looks like a child – a vulnerable, innocent child. It sends a shiver through his body, just looking at him. Potter looks beautiful. 

The thought confuses Draco. Since when did he consider Potter beautiful? Unable to help himself, he turns to the back of _Pride and Prejudice,_ taking a pencil out of his pyjama pants pocket. He swallows, ignoring the familiar guilt he feels whenever he does this, whenever he draws Potter. He stares at Potter for a moment, before he puts the pencil to paper. He draws the outline of Potter’s face quickly, years of practice making it easy. 

The first time he drew Potter, they were eleven years old. The drawing wasn’t very good, as it was done by memory. He’d drawn it the day he got home from Madam Malkin’s, before he even knew who the dark haired, green eyed boy had been. Over the years, he has gotten better at sketching his rivals face. But this, this is different. Every drawing he’s done of Potter has been from memory. He’s never sat and drawn Potter like this before, his muse before him, still and waiting to be placed on paper. 

Draco bites his lip as he looks from his page to Potter and back, touching up his details. He doesn’t know how long he sits there for, drawing Potter as he sleeps. But in no time at all, the night turns into morning and he hears footsteps on the stairs. Draco snaps the book shut, stands and turns away from Potter, staring into the dying fire. 

“Draco?”

Draco turns around and doesn’t know whether to be relieved or not that it’s Pansy standing before him. “Pansy,” he greets. 

She walks towards him, smiling, then stops when she sees Potter asleep on the sofa. She looks from him to Draco, a questioning look on her face. Draco shrugs. “He was here when I came down this morning.”

Pansy eyes his pyjamas. “Go get ready, Draco. Breakfast is soon.” She walks towards him and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You all right, darling?”

Draco sighs, nodding. “Yeah, Pans. I’m getting there.” She pats his cheek lightly, offering him a sad, but genuine smile. “We all are. Together.”

Draco presses a returning kiss to her forehead and then starts to walk away, only to pause when he hears a sleepy, “Malfoy?”

He looks down at Potter on the sofa, who is blinking blearily, his glasses skew. Draco doubts Potter sleeps with glasses on often. He watches as Potter sits up, yawns and looks around. His eyes widen when he sees Pansy. 

“Oh, is it morning?”

“Yes, Potter,” Draco says, amused. “I’ll be back soon,

Pans.”

“Love you, Draco,” she calls after him. 

Draco just smiles. 

The next night when Potter comes down to the common room, he doesn’t sit on the sofa. Instead, he stands hesitantly, shifting on his feet as he looks down on Draco. Draco looks up at him, confused. What could Potter possibly want now?

“Malfoy,” Potter starts, “can we go to the kitchens? I’m starving.”

Malfoy grits his teeth. This is getting out of hand. Reading sessions, hanging out, now midnight feasts. What in Merlin’s name is happening between them? But despite his bewilderment, Draco stands, nodding. “Okay.”

They step out of the 8thyear common room together and slip silently through the hall way. The walk to the kitchens is short. Potter tickles the pear on the portrait and they step into the kitchens together. There is a fire lit by the stove and the two boys walk over to the table beside it and sit down opposite each other. Almost instantly, a house-elf appears, a bottle of rum in hand. It seems to know Potter, because it starts sobbing enthusiastically and clinging to his leg under the table. 

“Mr Harry Potter, sir!” It squeaks. “Winky has missed you, sir! When Mr Harry Potter did not come visit, Winky thought something terrible must have happened!”

Potter picks the creature up and places it on his lap, hugging it tightly. “I’m sorry, Winky,” he says. Then, “How is everyone here coping? After… everything?” The house-elf bursts into even louder and more obnoxious tear, taking a swig of the alcohol. Draco forces himself not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. He has always despised house-elves, but he never sought to harm them, like his father does. He would just prefer to avoid them all together. 

“Winky is most aggrieved to hear Dobby has died, sir. Winky and the other house-elves sir, we all miss Dobby, sir. Dobby was the greatest of us all.”

Potter looks ready to shed a tear along with the bizarre creature. “I miss him too, Winky. He died to save me. It was my fault.”

“No!” Winky protests. “Not Harry Potter’s fault. Never Harry Potter’s fault. Any house-elf would have done what Dobby did for you, sir. You are our master above all other masters.”

Potter smiles at Winky. “I don’t think Kreacher agrees with that.”

Winky climbs off Potter, rubbing her nose. “What can Winky get for Mr Harry Potter and his friend?” Potter asks for some coffee, and treacle pudding, if there is any. When Winky turns to Draco, he just asks for a tea. Once the house-elf has bustled off to get the goods, Draco moves to open the book. Potter smiles and rests his head on his arms, folded on the table. He closes his eyes with a content sigh. Draco stares at him for a moment, before he clears his throat and starts to read where they left off. Draco looks up occasionally to glance at Potter’s calm and relaxed face. He looks so young. When Winky returns with the food and drinks, Draco pauses on the reading to sip his tea, whilst Potter tucks into the tart like a starved animal. 

“So,” Potter says conversationally, “are you going to Hogsmead tomorrow?”

Draco shakes his head. “No, I…” he trails off. Then, quietly, he says, “not many people appreciate me hanging around.”

Potter frowns, a fork full of his dessert halfway to his mouth. “Oh,” he says, as though it hadn’t even occurred to him that some people might hate Draco because he is an ex-Death Eater. Potter continues to eat slowly. “I’m not going to Hogsmead either.”

Draco smiles softly down into his tea. Merlin, he thinks. He’s really starting to enjoy Potter’s company. They sit in silence for a while longer, before they decide to head back to the 8thyear tower. As they walk, their shoulders brush lightly and it sends an unfamiliar feeling tingling through his body. They bid goodnight at the top of the stairs, before slipping into their own rooms. Draco leans against his bedroom door, staring around at his room. A smile flickers across his face. He closes his eyes. The picture in his mind is clear. Dark hair. Green eyes. Lightning bolt scar. _Harry._

**Harry**

When Harry wakes up the next morning, he can already tell that something is very, very wrong. His head is throbbing and painful waves crash inside his mind. He winces, squeezing his eyes shut. The attack comes soon after that, words plaguing his mind as the voice screams at him. Harry shakes and trembles, unable to breathe. He whimpers quietly through it all. Please go away, he silently begs. Please leave me alone. 

_No_ , the cold voice laughs. _You did this. You chose this. So you have to pay the price._

Harry can feel the slow trickle of tears on his cheeks. No. He didn't choose this. He didn't know it would be like this. 

When it finally ends and he comes back to himself, he lies in bed for a long time. He feels shaken and broken, but he refuses to let it get to him. Things have been good recently. He's been getting into school, he's been living as normally as possible and he and Malfoy are becoming sort of friends, at least in Harry's opinion. He won't let this break down affect him. 

He sits up in bed, about to get up for the day, when the air shifts and crackles around him and suddenly there are four people in the room with him. His blood turns to ice in his veins. 

"Mum?" He whispers. "Dad?" He glances from where his parents have appeared to where Remus and Sirius are standing, hands clasped together. "I never thought..." He's never seen someone he knows before. 

Lily takes a step towards him, smiling. "My darling boy," she says gently.

Harry feels like weeping as he reaches out a hand that goes straight through his mother’s misty form. He glances around at his family, smiling sadly. “You’re here. You’re all here.”

Sirius smiles back at him. “Of course we are, Harry. We’ll always be here when you need us.”

James Potter coughs lightly. “Son, there are things we must discuss.”

Harry sighs. “This is about Voldemort, isn’t it? This is about what I’ve done.”

Remus nods. “You never should have done it, Harry. We understand – we do – but you shouldn’t have done it.” “I just wanted to live,” Harry whispers brokenly. “Oh, darling,” Lily says softly, “we know. And we want you to live, which is why we are here to warn you.” “Dark days are coming, Harry,” Sirius continues. “You need to be strong if you are to survive them.” “What do you mean?”

“He grows stronger,” James’ says. “You must fight him, Harry. And you must make a choice. A hard, but necessary choice.”

“Things will get easier,” Remus adds. “Just hold on, Harry.”

The figures start to waver. “Don’t leave me!” Harry calls out desperately. “Please don’t leave me!”

Lily smiles sadly as she starts to shimmer. “We don’t have a choice, sweetheart.” Then they are gone. 

Harry sits there for a while, cold and empty. This feels far too much like his night in the forest. When he thought he was going to die. Harry feels slightly sick. The nausea swarms in the pit of his stomach and he places a hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. What choice is he going to have? What had his parents, Sirius and Remus meant? 

There is a knock on his door, and he calls out hoarsely for whoever it is to enter. The door opens and Hermione and Ron stick their heads in. When they see the state Harry is in, they run towards him, the door firmly locking behind them. Hermione sits on the bed beside him instantly, her arm slipping around his shoulder. She holds him close as he cries silently, overwhelmed by the fact that he has just seen and spoken to his dead parents. All four of them. Because Remus and Sirius are family to. They were parental figures in his life. And he loved them dearly. 

“Harry,” Ron says softly, kneeling in front of him. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

Harry sniffs, turning his face into Hermione’s shoulder. He reaches out and clasps Ron’s hand in his. They sit there for several minutes, holding onto each other. Finally, Harry pulls back and wipes at his blotchy, wet face. “Sorry,” he says croakily. “I’m so sorry. I just…” Hermione squeezes his shoulder. “It’s okay, Harry.” There is another knock on the door and then Neville pops his head in, saying, “Coming?”

Ron glances at Harry. Harry shakes his head. “You guys go on. I’m going to stay here.”

Ron looks at him warily. “We’ll stay to.”

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head. “It’s okay. I… I want to be alone.”

Neville squints at him. “You all right, Harry?”

Harry smiles weakly. “I’m fine, Nev. You all go on. Bring me back something good.”

The three Gryffindor’s eye each other slowly, before silently agreeing that leaving Harry alone is the best idea. Hermione and Ron stand, moving to the door to join Neville. They say goodbye, looking slightly guilty, before walking out of the room. Harry stays there for a moment, collecting himself, before he gets up and dresses. He has a day with Malfoy to look forward too. 

**Draco**

The next morning, after half the school has vanished to Hogsmead, Draco steps inside the 8th year common room to find Potter lying on the sofa with a blanket, staring at the wall. His face is slightly red and he looks tired, drained. But then he looks up, spots Draco and his face lights up like a Christmas tree. He sits up on the sofa, the blanket falling into his lap, revealing that he is dressed in his uniform – white shirt, pull over, and loose tie – despite it being the weekend. Draco walks over to the sofa and sits down next to Potter, making sure to keep a safe distance between them. He drops his bag onto the floor and reaches into it to pull out _Pride and Prejudice._ He turns to the place where they left off. Potter, however, tosses the blanket onto the floor and instead shuffles closer to Draco so that their limbs are touching. A shiver shoots through Draco’s body at the contact. He slowly starts to read, Potter leaning even closer as he does so, until his head is on Draco’s shoulder. Draco’s voice hitches, but he keeps on reading. 

_“You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be!—engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible.”_

_“This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are engaged.”_

_Jane looked at her doubtingly. “Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be. I know how much you dislike him.”_

_“You know nothing of the matter._ That _is all to be forgot. Perhaps I did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.”_

He pauses, looking down at Potter, who looks up at him from where he is resting against Draco. They stare at each other for a few moments, before Draco looks away to cough, covering his mouth. His voice is hurting from all this reading out loud. Potter seems to notice, as he sits up, moving away from Draco, much to the Slytherin’s disappointment. But then he reaches out and takes the book from Draco, picking up where he left off. Draco stares at Potter as he reads, barely paying attention to the words, but rather to the soothing sound of his voice. 

_“With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms,”_ Potter reads. _“Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.”_

Potter finishes. He closes the book, and hands it back to Draco with a smile. Draco can’t help but smile back. With the book finished, Draco is planning to leave, but Potter grabs onto his wrist when he tries to stand. “Malfoy,” Potter starts, “why didn’t you tell them it was me? At the manor, I mean.”

Draco falls back against the couch, paling slightly. “I…” He briefly meets Potter’s interest gaze, before looking away. “I didn’t want V-Voldemort to win. I’d seen what he could do. What he was going to do if he won. And you,” Draco laughs bitterly. “You were the only thing standing between his victory. I needed you to live.” Potter doesn’t let go of his wrist. 

“It was brave of you,” Potter says softly. “Decidedly

Gryffindorish.”

Draco snorts. “Sure, Potter. Whatever you say.” They don’t talk after that. The silence engulfing them is warm and comfortable. Draco’s eyes keep slipping shut of their own accord. Unable to help himself, he starts to sag to the side, drifting into the realm of unconsciousness. He is asleep within moments. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Six**

_And I'll hold you tightly, I'll tell you nothing but truth  
And I'll hold you tightly, I'll give you nothing but truth_

\- Small Bump, Ed Sheeran

**Harry**

Harry wakes up to a mouth full of platinum hair. He blinks, groaning slightly. He leans back, trying to take in his surroundings. Oh, he thinks dazedly. He is curled up on the couch, where they were reading. Except now Malfoy is lying between Harry’s legs, his chest and cheek pressed against Harry’s shirt. Malfoy’s arm is draped over Harry’s and hanging off the edge of the couch. Harry’s heart beats frantically in his chest and he worries for a moment that Malfoy will hear it from where his cheek is pressed to his chest.

Harry reaches up hesitantly, running his fingers through the thin, soft hair on Malfoy’s head. Harry stills his hand, soaking in this closeness that he isn’t usually allowed. It feels so good, to hold Malfoy like this, to see him like this. Harry wishes that he could see Malfoy’s face, but he can’t see over the mused hair.

The sound of the portrait opening draws Harry’s attention. He shoots a panicked, wide eyed gaze towards the opening doorway. Oh, Merlin, he thinks. The 8th years are back from Hogsmead and they are about to find _him and Malfoy_ cuddling on the sofa. This is it. His life is over. Not that Harry is ashamed of Malfoy, he thinks hurriedly. He just doesn’t want everyone to find out about their… friendship, like this.

Neville steps into the room, his arms full of bags. His eyes widen slightly when he meets Harry’s panicked eyes, but then, being the loyal friend that he is, he drops all his bags in the door way. Neville lets out a curse and kneels to collect them. Still outside the door, Harry can hear the other’s complaining for Neville to hurry up and move. Harry wastes no time. He gently nudges Malfoy.

“Malfoy,” he says softly. “You need to wake up.”

Malfoy doesn’t stir. Harry glances at Neville who is staring at him with wide eyes, clearly screaming _hurry up._ Harry sighs. “Sorry, Malfoy.” Then he shoves Malfoy off the couch and onto the floor. Malfoy squawks indignantly and sits up, rubbing his head sleepily.

“Potter?”

Harry nods at Neville, who stands and makes room for the rest of the 8th years. Malfoy looks towards the door and his eyes widen. He stands hastily and moves swiftly to the other side of the common room, away from Harry. Harry grins at him, before schooling his expression into a blank one. He greets the others as they enter the common room. They are all buzzing with excitement and Harry frowns, wondering why. Ron and Hermione enter the room last, beaming. They sit down on either side of him on the sofa, nudging him lightly with their shoulders. Harry smiles at them. “What is it?”

Hermione bites her lip. “When we were in town, we bumped into George.”

“George?” Harry exclaims.

Ron nods. “Yep. He was there doing business with Zonko’s. He gave me something.”

“It’s right good, it is,” Seamus says, leaning over the back of the sofa. “Can’t wait to try it!”

Harry looks between them all. “Well?” He says impatiently. “What is it?”

Ron leans down and pulls something out of one of his bags. Harry stares at it, unblinking. It is a miniature replica of the Goblet of Fire. Harry doesn’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified by the symbol that represents one of the worst years of his life.

Ron coughs. “It’s called a Secret Sharer. Fr…” he trials off, swallowing. “Fred and George were working on it before. And, well, George finally finished it. It’s just a proto type. George asked us to test it and see if it works.”

“It’s a game,” Seamus interjects. “You put it in the middle of a circle and the magic reaches into each of the players. Then the Goblet shoots out questions directed at specific people. It also shoots out ‘wild’ questions every now and then. Questions for us all, that is, not just for one person.”

“You can answer the question or take the forfeit,” Ron finishes.

Harry looks down at the Secret Sharer. As fun as the game sounds, he is slightly terrified. Harry has plenty of secrets. Most of which need to remain a secret. But everyone else looks so excited so he just smiles and says, “Brilliant.”

The Goblet is placed in the middle of the room and they all sit around it. Dean casts the same Honesty Spell from the Never Have I Ever game. Then Ron activates the Secret Sharer. A golden light shoots out from the device, reaching out in thin strands to each of the 8thyears. The strands seem to reach into their minds, reading their thoughts. Then it fades instantly and the Goblet dims. They all watch with baited breath to see what will happen next. The Goblet glows red and then a piece of paper shoots from the cup, just like the names shot from the Goblet of Fire all those years ago. The piece of paper flutters towards Ron, who looks at it nervously when it lands in his palm. He opens it up and reads it to himself. Then he blushes.

“Go on,” Seamus prods.

Ron coughs. “The question is… for all the Slytherin’s.”

Malfoy groans. “Joy,” he drawls.

Ron clears his throat, before reading, “Slytherin’s, how did you really learn the words to Weasley is Our King?”

Parkinson stares at Ron for a moment, before she bursts out laughing. Malfoy looks worried and he glares daggers at Zabini. “If you dare say a word…” he threatens, his voice low.

Parkinson beams. “Oh, this is too good. Draco here likes to- “

Malfoy lunges at her, placing his hand firmly over her mouth. “I mean it, Pansy,” he growls, but he has an affectionate look in his eyes. Harry watches in amusement, along with the rest of the 8thyears. None of the non-Slytherin’s are used to seeing Malfoy like this. It’s… strange. A good strange. Malfoy jerks his hand back, starting at Parkinson in disgust as he wipes his hand on her trousers. Ah, Harry thinks, she licked him.

Zabini uses this distraction to proceed with the story. “Draco came up with it in the shower. He would sing it constantly.”

Parkinson, now free, continues. “He sat us all down, each and every Slytherin, and taught us the lyrics.” Malfoy is staring at the floor, his arms folded across his chest and his face flushed scarlet. “He even taught us harmonies!” Parkinson snorts out, giggling hysterically as she leans against Zabini.

Harry stares at Malfoy in barely concealed amusement. He tries to picture the Slytherin’s learning the song with Malfoy conducting them.

He snorts. “I say, Malfoy, I don’t know whether to be impressed with your dedication or horrified that you think of Ron while you’re in the shower.”

Ron chokes on air whilst Malfoy splutters, his face growing even redder. Harry just laughs lightly. The Goblet glows again and they all wait in anticipation for the next question. The paper shoots out and floats towards Anthony. He looks down at the paper and grins. “Nev, who was your actual first kiss?”

Neville blushes scarlet and looks around the room with wide eyes. Harry watches him curiously. Neville always said that his first kiss had been with come muggle girl over the summer between 4thand 5thyear. But apparently that was a lie.

Neville sighs nervously. He mumbles something.

“What?” Dean asks. “Speak up, mate.”

Neville sighs again. “Ginny. At the Yule Ball.”

Harry stares at him, before cautiously turning his eyes to Ron. Ron’s face is flushed and his eyes are bulging. “Has everyone here made out with my sister, then? Michael, Dean, Harry, _Neville._ Merlin’s beard!”

Harry flushes and stares down at his lap. Well isn’t this fun? Not. He looks up at the goblet, willing for it to shoot out another question. It doesn’t take long for it to do just that. The piece of paper flutters towards Malfoy. Harry waits with baited breath. Malfoy reads the question, his eyes growing wide. “Who does Potter secretly want to snog?”

Harry blushes furiously. Shite. No way is he answering that. He scans the group, his eyes wide. “What’s the forfeit?”

Malfoy smirks at him. “Scared, Potter?”

“You wish,” Harry replies. He pauses, thinks. Who does he want to snog other than Malfoy? “Fine. I secretly want to snog…” he pauses. “Professor Gwydion.” It’s not a total lie, which is probably why he’s able to say it. The first and only time he considered snogging his teacher was during a Defence lesson a few weeks back. Harry had taken a spell hard and had ended up on his back, staring at the ceiling in a bleary haze, his glasses having fallen off. He had been half concussed, unable to think properly, when Professor Gwydion had leant over him, saying his name as he tried to see if Harry was okay. And all Harry could think about was Gwydion’s pink lips above him. In that moment, he had one something he’d never done before. He’d thought about what it would be like to kiss a boy – a man – that wasn’t Malfoy. The thought had passed as fleetingly as it had arrived. But it was still a strong enough thought for him to be able to say it out loud under a truth spell. The 8thyears stare back at him with wide eyes.

“Potter, are you queer?” Malfoy asks.

“No,” Harry replies. He isn’t, after all. He just really likes Malfoy and is able to appreciate attractive males. And contemplate kissing them on occasion.

The next question to follow is a wild question. Hermione reads it out. “What is the worst injury you have ever sustained?” She frowns at that, her mouth twisting as though she’s tasted something sour. “When… when Bellatrix tortured me.”

There is silence around the room at that. No one knows of what happened except those that had been at the manor. But no one asks. They just accept that it happened. And that Hermione probably doesn’t want to talk about it, so they keep quiet.

Hannah goes next. “When I broke my arm, I suppose.”

Then Susan says, “When I was sick with dragon pox.”

Anthony and Michael each go. Then Parkinson and Zabini. When it’s Malfoy’s turn, he stares at the floor as he says, “An old wound I once received in a bathroom incident.”  
Harry blushes deeply. Then he frowns. Malfoy hadn’t said that it was Harry who injured him. Or what the injury was. Surely he’d want to shame and blame Harry, like usual. But no. He… covered for Harry. Or at least chose not to out him. Malfoy receives a few odd looks but no one says anything. When it’s Ron’s turn, he looks contemplative. “It wasn’t a wound, per say. But when I had to wear the locket Horcrux. That… that was an injury to me. Of the worst kind.”

Then it’s Harry’s turn. He thinks about it for a moment. All the things that have happened to him flicker across his mind. The Unforgivables, the loss of bones, the torture, the losses, the deaths. He opens his mouth, unsure what he is going to say, knowing only that the truth alone will spill from his lips. “When I died.”

The words are out before he can stop them. He gasps lightly, clapping a hand over his mouth. The 8thyears stare at him blankly. Ron and Hermione, who knew of this occurrence, squeeze his hands on either side. Harry meets Ron’s gaze. He chews his lip. “I didn’t mean to say that,” he whispers.

He forces himself to look up, to meet the started gazes of his mates. He meets Malfoy’s wide eyes. He holds the gaze for a few moments. 1,2,3,4… He looks away. No one says anything. Then, “What do you mean when you died?” It’s Zabini who breaks the silence.

Harry interlaces his fingers in his lap as he chews his lip nervously. Then he sighs in resignation. “I don’t want to talk about it. All you need to know is that Voldemort used Avada Kedavra on me. And it worked.”

He turns his gaze on the Goblet, begging silently for it to release another question, to distract the prying eyes from him. Thankfully, the Goblet decides to obey his wishes and shoots out another question. The question is addressed to Hermione. “What really happened with Sirius Black and the Time Turner in third year?”

Hermione laughs lightly, nudging Harry with her shoulder. “Oh, what a story that is!” Hermione says, trying to break the tension. It works. She goes into great detail of explaining the night of the full moon’s events. She explains how they lived the entire night twice, how they used the time turner to go back and save Sirius and Buckbeak. She even tells them of how Dumbledore was the one to encourage them to do it. She leaves nothing out. As she speaks, Harry can’t help but watch Malfoy, waiting to see what his reactions will be like to the sordid tale. He smirks to himself when he sees Malfoy’s eyes widen as Hermione explains about how Harry cast the Patronus Charm. He can’t help but feel smug. He has always loved trying to impress Malfoy, after all.

The next few questions pass in a blur. Parkinson is asked who she was really snogging the previous night and she smirks when she confesses to it being Professor Gwydion, or Puck, as she now apparently calls him. She shoots Harry a smug look, as though she expects him to be upset by it. Only then does he remember that he said he wishes to snog Gwydion. Harry just smirks back at her, shrugging, asking, “Was it any good?”

She snorts. “Perfect, thanks. He’s brilliant with his tongue.”

Ron begs for her to shut up. The next question pops out the Goblet and flutters over to Parkinson. She looks down at the page, a frown flitting over her previously joyful face. “Potter, what really happened with the Dursley’s?” She looks up. “Who are the Dursley’s?”

Harry pales, having not expected that question in the slightest, which was foolish of him, he reflects. After all, the whole purpose of this game is to reveal secrets. “My… family,” Harry

says slowly. “I didn’t get on with them.”

Parkinson raises an eyebrow. “There must be something other than that. Why else would the Secret Sharer ask it?”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m not answering that question. I’ll take the forfeit. Whatever it is.”

Before anyone can reply, the Goblet shoots out another piece of paper that falls into Parkinson’s hand. She looks down at it. “Potter, where are the Deathly Hallows?”

Harry gulps. “What? So it just keeps asking me questions until I answer one?”

Ron nods sheepishly. “Sorry, mate, but yeah, it does.”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m not answering that.”

“The Hallows are real?” Susan asks.

“Yes,” Matthew says. “Didn’t you hear when Harry fought Voldemort in the end? He explained how the Elder Wand had belonged to Malfoy, but Harry disarmed him so the Elder Wand belonged to him.”

Harry swallows nervously. “Yes, the Deathly Hallows exist. All three of them. No, I’m not answering any questions about them.”

The Goblet shoots out another piece of paper. Parkinson once again reads it out loud. “Potter, what really happened to –” She stops abruptly, rereading the page before her. Then she looks around, her eyes wide. “What really happened to Voldemort?”

Harry stands. “Enough. I’m not answering these questions. They are secrets for a reason. If people knew… the danger everyone could be in if any of this information fell into the wrong hands. No. No, these are my secrets, my burdens and I won’t share them.”

Ron pulls Harry back down onto the sofa. “Listen, Harry. You don’t have to answer them. I think I speak for all of us,” he looks at the Slytherin’s. “Well, most of us, when I say that we understand and respect that you have done things that you would rather not discuss in order to keep us all alive. Hell, Hermione and I were with you last year. We know some of the shit you went through. And that’s okay, you know? But these questions… we understand that you can’t share the truth. We accept that.”

Harry looks around the circle to find his friends’ all nodding in agreement with Ron’s words. He breathes out deeply. “Thank you.”

The Goblet shoots out another question. Harry waits with baited breath as Parkinson says, “Potter, who have you killed?”

Harry laughs bitterly. “It’s not gonna stop till I answer, is it?”

Ron shakes his head. “’fraid not.”

Harry takes a breath. “Right. People I have killed.” He closes his eyes, unable to look or meet anyone’s gazes. “Professor Quirrell, in first year. Cedric. Sirius. Tonks. Dobby. My mum and dad. Dumbledore. Hedwig. Remus. Mad Eye. Fred. Lavender.” He stops. He knows that he needs to say Voldemort. Everyone is waiting for it. But he _can’t._ He’s under the truth spell. Except… “Tom Riddle.” There! He did kill Riddle, in the Chamber of Secrets, but everyone will assume he means at the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry swallows. “The Fallen 50.”

“But, Harry,” Susan starts, “you didn’t kill all those people. Voldemort…”

Harry meets her gaze. “Didn’t I? We’re under a truth spell. I can’t admit to things I didn’t do, can I?” He sighs. “I’ll admit, I didn’t literally kill them, but they are dead because of me. I wasn’t fast enough, or strong enough or brave enough or clever enough. And they all had to pay the price. Every single person that has died because of Voldemort - since he came back – that’s on me.”

He sighs in relief when the Goblet spouts yet another question and everyone quickly moves on. Except Ron and Hermione. He can feel his friend’s giving him confused and concerned glances. He appreciates it, he does. It’s nice to know that he is loved. But he knows that this game and its reveals is going to lead to his friend’s interrogating him and he really doesn’t want to lie to them anymore than he already has.

The piece of paper flutters to Neville, who opens it and reads, “Two of you here have cast an Unforgivable Curse. Which of you have and what curse did you cast.”

Harry groans. Great. This game is out to destroy him. Honestly, is he ever going to catch a break. He almost walks off like he did during Never Have I Ever. Almost. But he chooses to answer instead. He is so tired of lies, so why not answer one question that he can. “I did,” Harry says loudly. “I cast the Imperious curse and I used the Cruciatus Curse.”

Now _that_ gets a few stunned looks. Malfoy blinks. “You’ve cast Unforgivables? Perfect Potter? Saint Potter?”

Harry shrugs. “Yes. I cast an Imperious Curse on a goblin when Ron, ‘Mione and I broke into Gringotts. And I cast the Cruciatus Curse on Amycus Carrow.”

Malfoy coughs. “Well, I cast the Cruciatus Curse. A few times.”

Harry is growing tired now, he wants the game to end. He yawns, covering his mouth as he does so. He’s about to call for the end of the game when a new question shoots from the Secret Sharer and lands on the floor in front of Harry. He reaches down to pick it up, blinking in surprise as he reads the words. _Draco Malfoy, what is your secret hobby?_ Harry beams. Finally. He can finally find out something else about Malfoy, something private and important. When he reads the question out, however, Malfoy just flushes and shakes his head.

“No. I am not answering that.”

“Well,” Harry says, “you either answer or you forfeit. Your choice.”

Malfoy groans. “It’s something that you would never suspect,” Malfoy tries, staring at the goblet in anticipation. No new questions shoot out. Malfoy smirks. “Well, there you go. I answered the question. It might not be the answer you all wanted, but it is an answer.”  
Harry stares at him, dumbstruck. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he mutters.

“Because, Potter,” Malfoy retorts, having heard Harry grumble, “you are an idiot. You’re too dumb to think of such a genius way out of answering questions you don’t want to. In fact, you’re so dumb that you probably forget you’re dumb on a daily basis.”

Everyone waits with baited breath. A year ago, heck, even a few months ago, Harry would have attacked. It would have been another famous Malfoy-Potter argument that would end with detention and the infirmary. But now, things are different. Sure, they’re still on rocky terms at times, especially during the day. But at night, and even today, as they… slept on the couch, there is no hatred between them. Only a tentative, blossoming friendship. And Harry won’t do anything to jeopardize that. So, Harry just offers Malfoy a small smile and says, “Well, lucky for me, I have you to remind me of what an idiot I am.”

Harry ignores the gawking from the other 8thyears in favour of watching Malfoy’s smirk change into a genuine smile. Harry realizes that it’s probably the first time any of them have seen him and Malfoy be civil with each other. And Harry realizes, in that moment, that no matter what, he can get through this hellish life, so long as he can get Malfoy to smile at him like that again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another update. Hope you all enjoy. xx

**Chapter Seven**

_Come back and tell me why_  
I'm feeling like I've missed you all this time  
And meet me there tonight  
And let me know that it's not all in my mind

\- Everything Has Changed, Taylor Swift, Ed Sheeran

****

**Harry**

****

Harry stares down at his charms essay, completely lost. He has absolutely no idea what he is supposed to be writing about. He glances around the classroom, sneaking glances at his classmates. They all appear to be enrapt in their essays, writing furiously. His shoulders sag and he returns to staring at his page miserably. He knows that he is supposed to be writing something or other on 5thyear charms and how they can use them in their lives, but, honestly? Harry can’t really remember what charms they learnt back then.

Harry stares straight ahead of him, his eyes focused on the back of Malfoy’s head. The blond is scribbling frantically, clearly immersed in his work. Harry sighs. He wishes he was as clever as Malfoy. Honestly, Malfoy is nearly as smart as Hermione! Nearly. He chews his lip. He and Malfoy are on better terms at the moment. Maybe…

He leans over his desk, half standing, and taps Malfoy on the shoulder. “Malfoy?” He whispers.

Malfoy jumps, turning in his seat to glare at Harry. “What, Potter?”

Harry blushes slightly, but he can’t help but smirk at Malfoy. “Help me?” He asks softly.

He can feel the curious gazes of some of the other students on him, but he ignores them, keeping his eyes solely on Malfoy.

“What?” Malfoy blurts, blinking.

Harry chews his lip. “I’m lost. What did we even _do_ in Charms during 5thyear?”

Malfoy gawks at him. “Honestly, Potter! We’re 20 minutes into the lesson and you’re asking me that _now?”_

“Yes?” Harry replies sheepishly.

Malfoy shakes his head. “Honestly, Potter!” He scoffs. “If you must know, we learnt Silencing Charms, the Growth Charm, the Locomotion Charm, the Bubble-head Charm. The Colour Charm, as well. And many, many more, but that should be enough for your useless brain to handle at present.”

Harry beams at him. “Why, thank you, Malfoy. I didn’t know you cared.”

With that, Harry flops back into his seat and continues with his essay, a smile burnt onto his face for the rest of the class.

Harry doesn’t stop there.

Tired of being friendly with Malfoy during the nights only, he decides to make a move and demonstrate their rocky friendship in front of everyone. He doesn’t know how Malfoy will react, and he isn’t planning on being best mates all of a sudden, but he is so tired of acting as though he hates Malfoy when in reality he is so hopelessly in love with him.

In the middle of lunch, Harry walks into the Great Hall. Some people stop and stare, still not used to seeing him after all these years, especially after what happened last year and earlier this year. Harry ignores them. He scans the hall for Malfoy, seeking out blond hair. When he spots him, sat at the Slytherin table beside Parkinson, he starts to walk determinedly towards them, only to be stopped when Ginny and Luna step in front of him.

“Heya, Harry,” they chorus.

He smiles at them, hoisting his bag further up his shoulder. “Hey, Gin. Hey, Luna. Sorry, can’t talk, I have to- “

“Not so fast,” Ginny interrupts, placing a hand on his forearm to stop him from walking. “You’ve been avoiding us.”

“No, I haven’t,” he remarks. “I’ve just been busy.”

Ginny folds her arms over his chest. “Nope. According to Hermione and Ronald, you’ve been avoiding everyone. Apparently you rarely speak to them.” Her face softens. “We’re worried about you, Harry.”

He sighs, running the hand that isn’t holding his bags strap over his face. “Look,” he begins. “I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I am better than I was. I promise to… socialize more. I’m sorry for ignoring you all. I’ve just been trying to figure out how to deal with it all.”

Luna smiles dreamily at him. “You’re Wrackspurts have gone, Harry. They were swarming you at the start of term.”

Harry nods slowly. “Right. Wrackspurts. I’m glad they’re going away.” He looks over at Malfoy again. “I promise to talk to you both later, I just really need to do something.”

He flashes them a parting grin and then moves past them, continuing on to where Malfoy and Parkinson are laughing together. As he draws nearer, whispers begin behind him. There is no mistaking where he is heading. He channels out the curious gazes and conversations, only stopping when he is beside the Slytherin’s. Parkinson spots him first and Harry can’t help but snigger when she chokes on the air and kicks Malfoy under the table. Malfoy yelps in protest. Parkinson widens her eyes and nods at Harry, trying to get Malfoy to turn around. He does. When he sees Harry, his scowl morphs into shock, his lips parting in a small ‘oh’. Harry smiles cheerfully at him and sits beside him. “Hey, Malfoy,” he says, dumping his school bag on the floor. He grabs a plate and starts to dish up some of the potatoes being offered. He stacks his plate with all the bits and bobs, taking a couple chicken legs as well. He starts to eat, calmly aware of Malfoy and Parkinson staring at him. He swallows his food, drains a glass of pumpkin juice, then turns to look at them, eyebrow raised in question. “What?”

Malfoy blinks. “What? _What!”_ Malfoy says indignantly. “What are you doing here, Potter!?” He hisses.

Harry smiles. “Having lunch with my frenemy. Got a problem?”

“Yes, Potter,” Malfoy seethes, “I have a problem. Just because-” he stops, groaning. He drops his voice so that no one else can hear his words but them. “Just because I stooped low enough as to _socialize with you_ doesn’t mean I want you here! At _my_ table! With _my_ house!”

Harry just bumps his shoulder against Malfoy’s. “Get used to it, Draco,” he says casually, holding in his snort of laughter when Malfoy splutters at the casual use of his name coming from Harry’s lips. “I’m not planning on leaving. It’s a lot quieter here. In fact,” he continues, chewing on another chicken wing, “I rather enjoy it here. Maybe I should have been a Slytherin after all,” he muses to himself, glancing up the table where the rest of Slytherin is sat silently, staring at him. “Then again,” Harry continues, “they seem to stare at me more here, even if it is blessedly quiet.”

“Should have been in Slytherin house?” Malfoy gawks. “No way, Potter. No way in hell would you have been a Slytherin!”

Harry just grins. “Ah, but Draco, my friend, this is where the Hat wanted to put me.”

Those within range gasp in shock. Harry realizes what he’s just done. Great. Rumors will be spreading throughout the school in minutes. Well, he might as well own it. “I think I would look good in Slytherin green.”

Harry finishes his lunch silently, then he pushes his plate away and stands, grabbing his bag. “That was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.” He glances at Malfoy, who is staring determinedly at the table as he sips on his drink, his lips wrapped lightly around a straw. Harry leans over Malfoy’s shoulder. “Can I have some?” he asks quietly, his breath fanning Malfoy’s cheek. Silently, Malfoy pulls his mouth off the straw and holds it to Harry, who takes a few sips of the drink. He pulls back, grinning. “My, my, Malfoy,” he teases. “Sneaking Firewhisky into school. Risky.” Harry steps away. He nods at Parkinson. “See you both later,” then he hurries from the hall.

The second he is out of the Great Hall, he sags against a wall, running a hand through his mass of hair. What in Merlin’s name has gotten into him? That was so unlike him. He never does whatever the hell that was! He groans, banging his head against the wall. Idiot, he scolds himself. Complete and utter _idiot._

He breathes out slowly. It’s okay. He’s still alive. Malfoy didn’t kill him. That’s a positive, right? Malfoy hadn’t Avada Kedavra’d him on sight. Harry is going to take that as a win. He’s just about to step out of the alcove where he is hiding when he spots Malfoy himself exiting the Great Hall with Parkinson. He watches as Malfoy says goodbye to Parkinson, then proceeds to walk in the opposite direction to his friend. Harry frowns. Where is Malfoy going? Unable to help himself, he tugs out the invisibility cloak from his bag and pulls it over himself. He takes the Marauders Map out of his pocket and whispers, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The map slowly bursts into life. Harry scans it, seeking out Malfoy’s name, then he follows him, keeping his eyes closely on the map. Where is Malfoy going, he wonders. He’s walking towards the Owlery, but he never gets there. Malfoy’s dot stops at the bottom of the stairs. Harry frowns. Strange. He walks over to the spot where Malfoy’s dot is and stares at the wall before him. Malfoy isn’t here, but the map says he is. Unless… He reaches out and gently pushes the wall. It gives way, revealing a passage way. Harry grins. Wicket. He follows the passage way as it winds forward in a narrow tunnel. Then he reaches a room. Harry’s breath catches in his throat.

The room is small but cozy. There are bookshelves lining two of the walls, filled with, well, books. On the other walls there are canvas paintings and pencil sketches stuck up. They are absolutely incredible. And, Harry thinks, staring at them, they are mostly of _him._ Harry steps further into the room and spots Malfoy sat at a desk that is sandwiched between the two bookshelves. He is sketching, Harry realizes, watching as Malfoy’s hand races across the page with careful precision. Harry looks away again, focusing on the artwork on the walls. There are paintings and sketches of Hermione, Ron, Bellatrix, even of McGonagall. There are paintings of Harry battling Voldemort, of Hogwarts in flames. Then there are other works, drawings of Sirius, Luna, Ginny. Hell, there is even a painting of Hedwig. Harry stares, unable to tear his eyes away. Has Malfoy been drawing Harry and his friends all these years? Why?

He walks over to one of the portraits of himself, eyeing it closely. It’s of him in first year. He is wearing his quidditch uniform and holding his broom. Malfoy has drawn him staring straight forward, as though gazing into the on looker’s soul. The drawing has a scary likeness of how he looked back then. Anyone would think it was a photo.

Harry walks further along the wall, stopping when he comes across a canvas painting that catches his eye. There is a painting with one side white and the other half black. On one side, there is a dark, shadow like figure, standing out against the black background. Death, Harry thinks. On the other, there are three men, painted white and standing out against the black paint. He freezes. Malfoy has painted the story of the Three Brothers.

Harry hears a cough behind him and he spins around, going absolutely still when he sees Malfoy walking towards him. Harry holds his breath when Malfoy stops beside him and stands on his tiptoes to stick something onto the wall, before walking away and back to the desk. Harry slowly turns to look at the drawing. Harry blinks. Malfoy has drawn the Deathly Hallows symbol, surrounded by runes that Harry doesn’t recognize. He stares at it, stuck directly beside the Three Brothers canvas painting. Malfoy’s artwork is truly beautiful.   
Harry is suddenly overcome with overwhelming guilt. This is obviously Malfoy’s secret hobby and Harry is trespassing, looking at Malfoy’s private thoughts splayed across canvas and paper. He has no doubt that Malfoy would be horrified if he knew Harry was in here with him. After all, in all these years, Harry had had no clue that Malfoy even knew how to draw. Sure, Malfoy had sent him the odd bullying note in class of Harry falling off his broom, and yes, now that Harry thinks about it, they had been quite good considering. But these artworks are unlike anything Harry has ever seen before.

He takes one last look around the room, before smiling softly. He thinks he has fallen in love with Malfoy a little bit more than before.

With that final thought, he slips from the room and leaves Malfoy to his sketches.

When Harry reaches the dorms, he sees Ron and Hermione cuddling on the sofa, talking softly. Harry remembers Ginny’s words, about how his friends’ are worried about him. And miss him. He has to admit, he misses them too. But lying to them has created a rift between them. He takes a deep breath. This is Ron and Hermione. They have been through so much with him. He can’t ignore them now. He walks over to the fire place and sits down, facing them.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Harry!” Hermione exclaims. “How are you?”

Harry beams at her. “Brilliant. I feel brilliant, actually.” He pauses. “I need to tell you both something.”  
Ron and Hermione share a look, before nodding. “Okay, mate,” Ron says.

Harry gulps. “Is anyone else here?”

They shake their heads. “No. Everyone else either has class or are studying in the library.”

Harry nods. “Good.” He licks his lips. “I can’t tell you everything, but… I can tell you something.”

They nod. “Anything, Harry. We just want to help with the burden. You’ve been so down lately.”

Harry glances down at his lap. “I kept the Deathly

Hallows.”

“What?” Hermione shrieks.

Harry winces. “I’m sorry. But I was just so scared! What if there is another Grindelwald? Or Voldemort? I can’t risk abandoning them and having some mad man steal them away to use for another violent cause!”

Ron shuffles on the seat. “You’ve got a point, mate. But still… isn’t it a bit dangerous? I mean, you’re literally the Master of Death.” His eyes widen. “Holy Merlin! You control death!”

Harry laughs bitterly. “It doesn’t work that way, Ron, as much as I wish it did. I don’t control death. I can’t... order him about. Well, I can, I suppose. But I can’t make him bring people back or anything. And..” he considers, unsure whether to tell them the full story or not.

“Harry?” Hermione prods gently.

Trust them, he tells himself. These are your best friends. “I can see dead people.”

Ron blinks at him. Hermione looks confused. “You mean ghosts? We all can, Harry.”

He shakes his head. “No, not ghosts. Just… people who have died. Like my parents. Sirius. Remus. Other random dead people. A few weeks ago there was a little girl.” He closes his eyes. “People I’ve never met. And they all want me to make Death give them back but I _can’t.”_

Hermione gets up off the couch and sits beside him on the floor, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “Oh, Harry,” she says gently. You know you can tell us anything. Anytime. We’re here for you.”

He smiles at her. “I know. I just didn’t want to worry you.”

She laughs lightly. “Oh, Harry,” she says again. “You should know by now. We all worry about you regardless of whether you tell us what’s wrong or not.”

He laughs. He leans against Hermione and smiles at Ron, who grins back. “Blimey, Harry,” Ron says. “Hearing voices, seeing dead people. Whatever next, mate.”

Harry can’t help but hope that his friends’ never learn about Voldemort. He doesn’t know if poor Ron will be able to survive the shock.

That night, instead of reading, Harry drags Malfoy down to the Green House to help him with his Herbology project.

“I don’t even do Herbology!” Malfoy protests as Harry drags him into the green house. Harry just grins at him. “Maybe not, but you are still bloody good at it and I need help. And since you, my friend, are a genius, you can help me.”

Harry leads Malfoy to the back of the room, where the 7thand 8thyear projects are located. Harry scans them, spotting his amongst the pots. His pot is a small, brown rectangle, divided into three sections. Inside each of the sections is a single flower, none of them in bloom. The middle sections flower is a light blue, whereas the flowers on the ends are white. Their stems are black.

Malfoy stares down at them. “Why are you growing Moly?”

Harry reaches out and gently touches the flowers. “My project. I have to grow a plant of my choice and analyze it in a report.”

Malfoy stares at the Moly. “Well,” he says. “It is used for potions. And can protect you against dark enchantments.”

Harry looks at him. “ _I know._ Honestly, how thick do you think I am? I’m not having a problem with the report. I’m having a problem getting them to bloom.”

Malfoy takes a seat in front of the pot, staring at them in thought. Harry opens his mouth to speak, but Malfoy shushes him and tells him to get lost whilst he works. Harry smiles at him affectionately, glad that Malfoy’s back is to him, before wandering over to the other side of the Green House and out of view. He sits down in a corner, surrounded by plants. He closes his eyes as he leans against the wall, the scent of the different herbs and flowers filling his nostrils. He smiles as he thinks about Malfoy, sat there working on Harry’s project. His smile widens when he thinks about all the paintings and drawings he discovered this afternoon. Today has been a good day.

Of course, the goodness cannot last. Within a few moments of sitting in the calm, hidden away from the world, his vision starts to blur. He curses mentally. No. Not now. Please not now.

_Hello, Harry._

Harry squeezes his eyes shut more tightly, clutching his head as he curls in on himself. His breathing sharpens and he shakes his head side to side. “Get out,” he whispers. “Get out of my head.” His voice cracks over his words.

The voice in his head laughs harshly. _I don’t think I will, Harry Potter. It’s my turn now._

Harry lets out one last choked “no” before his world turns black.

When Harry comes to, he is lying on his back, a sweaty mess, whilst Malfoy kneels beside him, touching his shoulder lightly. Harry blinks up at Malfoy’s unusually pale face and frightened eyes. Harry frowns. “W-what?”

Malfoy slowly helps him sit up, keeping his hands on Harry’s shoulders and helping to rest him against the wall. Once Harry is sitting, Malfoy reaches out and feels his forehead, before letting his hand rest on Harry’s arm. “Potter, what the bloody hell happened?”

Harry stops – thinks. Oh. He had another black out. Blimey, what did he _do?_ “I don’t know?”

Malfoy bites his lip. “I was working on the Moly and next thing I know you’re screaming. I ran over and you were lying on the floor, clutching your head and crying and yelling.”

Harry swallows. Ah. That’s all. Okay, then. “Sorry,” Harry rasps. “I dozed off… nightmare. I get them. A lot. Which is why I spend my nights in the common room with you.”

Malfoy swallows. Harry stares at his throat, watching his Adams apple bob. He is overcome with the urge to lean forward and lick Malfoy’s throat. Harry shakes his head to clear his thoughts. Definitely _not_ going to happen. He’d rather Malfoy didn’t try to murder him because Harry decides to sexually harass him.

Malfoy reaches up, his fingertips briefly touching Harry’s face, before he stands up, helping Harry to his feet. “Come on, Potter. Why don’t we go check on your project?”  
Malfoy is trying to distract him, Harry can tell. He’s grateful for it. Grateful that Malfoy isn’t pushing him to talk or share against his will. He allows Malfoy to lead him to his Herbology project. Malfoy sits back down in his seat and prods the Moly flower once again. Harry watches him, his hands resting on the back of Malfoy’s chair. As he watches Malfoy pour potions, mix soil and cast spells, the flowers slowly start to open, blooming under the midnight moon. Harry gasps lightly, watching as the petals peel apart. Malfoy looks over his shoulder, smiling at him. Harry beams back.

“Thank you,” Harry says.

Malfoy gently touches his hand. Harry turns his palm up and intertwines their fingers. Malfoy freezes, but then gently folds his fingers between Harry’s. Harry sighs, still tired from his blackout. But he can’t deny that today, with all its events, has made him feel more alive than he has in a long while.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Eight**

_All the voices in my mind_  
Calling out across the line  


\- Bloodstream, Ed Sheeran _  
_

****

**Harry**

****

Harry is in the middle of Potions when it happens. He is standing between Ron and Hermione, staring into a cauldron, when his head erupts in agony, the pain flaring down his spine and through every inch of his body. He cries out, clutching his head with both hands. His eyes squeeze shut in pain, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He gasps, struggling to breathe. He is vaguely aware of voices surrounding him, talking to him, but he can’t focus on any of them. He’s too caught up in his mind – in his pain.

_Harry._

Go away, Harry screams silently. Just go away!

_I’m coming, Harry. I am going to win. You can never get rid of me, for as long as you live, so do I._

Harry shakes his head. “No!” he screams, subconsciously aware that he is screaming out loud. “Leave me be!”

Laughter. Horrible, cold laughter, swarming his mind, loud and chilling. _You belong to me, Harry Potter. Never forget that._

Harry gasps, feeling the presence fall away again. He slowly gains control of himself, becoming aware that he is lying on the floor, his classmates and Slughorn kneeling beside him, leaning over him. Harry slowly tears his cramped hands from his skull, mouth parting when he sees the blood on his fingers. He reaches up, touching his stinging scar, finding his fingers coming back with more blood on them. He breathes heavily, looking up to slowly meet Hermione and Ron’s scared and concerned gazes. Harry gulps.

“Harry,” Hermione whispers. “Your scar. It’s bleeding.”

Harry closes his eyes. “Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “It does that sometimes. Side effect of... everything. I’m sorry.”

He tries to sit up, but the world spins and he has to clutch onto the nearest body. He closes his eyes until the world stops turning. Then he opens his eyes again. It turns out that it is Malfoy he has clutched onto, but he doesn’t have it in him to care. Besides, he has already made a public display of his friendship with Malfoy at lunch earlier this week, so what does it matter. He smiles weakly at Malfoy and allows Ron to help him to his feet. Once he is standing, he lets go of Malfoy and allows Ron and Hermione to guide him from the room, Slughorn telling them to take Harry to Madam Pomfrey immediately. Harry glances over his shoulder, meeting Malfoy’s worried gaze for a brief moment before the door closes between them.

Ron and Hermione don’t say anything straight away, both silent as they walk towards the infirmary. But soon enough, Hermione starts to speak, concern leaking into her tone of voice.

“Harry, what was that back there?” she asks gently, the arm around his waist tightening.

Harry winces as he walks, gripping onto his friends’ more tightly. “I… I don’t know. It just happens sometimes.” No point telling them the truth. He’s not sure how they would react if they knew. Besides, he doesn’t know _how_ to tell them. Oh, by the way, I have a psychotic murder trapped inside my head and sometimes he likes to come out and play. Yeah, somehow he doesn’t think that would come over very well.

Hermione sighs, clearly not believing him, but she doesn’t push it. Harry knows she’ll interrogate him later, once he has been checked over by Pomfrey. He’ll have to come up with something believable by then. After all, he won’t be able to hold off Ron and Hermione’s concern for much longer.

When Madam Pomfrey sees him, she bundles him over to one of the beds and starts to examine him immediately. She asks him questions – questions Harry could answer, such as why this is happening – but he keeps his mouth shut, simply shrugging and saying, “I don’t know.”  
Once she has stopped prodding him, given him a couple potions and a Pepper Up, he leaves with Ron and Hermione. They want to take him to the dorms to rest, but Harry is so tired of lying around. So he convinces them to go with him to visit Hagrid instead. They are silent on their journey to Hagrid’s hut, none daring to breathe a word. Harry swallows. He doesn’t know how to tell them the truth. He can scarcely believe it himself. Besides, it is safer this way. For them. For everyone. The less people know, the better. It is Harry’s burden to bear.

Harry sighs bitterly as he thinks about how Dumbledore had tricked him into this fucked up life. _You have to do the ritual, Harry,_ Dumbledore had said. _It’s do the ritual or die._ Harry snorts wretchedly, earning himself concerned glances from his friends’. He shrugs them off. If only he hadn’t listened to Dumbledore.

When Voldemort had killed Harry the night of the Battle of Hogwarts, everything was supposed to fall into place. The Horcruxes would all be destroyed, Voldemort would be weak and everything would be right in the world. Finally. He would also be dead, but who cares? At that point, his life had been worth nothing if it meant ending the mass murderer. But then Dumbledore had been there, telling him he could go on or return to the land of the living and finish what he had begun. And Harry had been so desperate to live, to have a life other than the wretchedness of Voldemort hunting him, that he had readily agreed to return. Of course, that was when Dumbledore slipped in the fact that Harry would still be a Horcrux.

“Why?” Harry had argued. “I died. Surely that part of me, of him, is gone.”

But no. It hadn’t gone. It was still very much alive. And the only way to silence it was for Harry to die permanently. Or perform the ritual. 

“You won’t even know he’s there,” Dumbledore had said as they completed the task. “It will be like he is dead. But you must never tell anyone, Harry. For some, it won’t be enough. And they will try to kill you.”

So Harry had agreed, finished the ritual, and come back to life. He’d played his part, finished the battle, and slaughtered Tom Riddle. Except in that moment, when Voldemort’s body finally failed him, his soul travelled from the sordid remains of Voldemort’s physical form and into Harry’s head. Harry had trapped Voldemort inside himself. _You won’t even know he’s there._ Oh, how he wishes that were true. But Voldemort is there all right, pushing and prodding and gaining strength. Taunting Harry. Consuming him. Harry fears that one day, Voldemort will take over and Harry will be the one pushed to the side. He knows what he should do. He should die. If he died, so would Voldemort. Harry is the only thing left tying him to this earth, after all. But he can’t do it. Because for once in his life, he wants to be selfish. He wants to _live._

So here he is, supposed Master of Death, sharing a body with Voldemort, keeping secrets from his friends’ for the first time in his life, and hopelessly in love with Draco Malfoy, his ex-nemesis turned frenemy. After the war, all he’d wanted was a quiet, last year at Hogwarts. Now he realizes it was stupid to hope that that would ever happen.

They reach Hagrid’s hut and knock on the door. When it opens, Hagrid looks down at them, beaming from ear to ear.

“’Arry! Hermione! Ron! How are ye doin’?”

Hermione grins at him. “Well, thank you, Hagrid. May we come in?”

“Of course, of course. Yer always welcome ‘ere.”

The three step inside after Hagrid and take their usual seats in the small house. Harry shuffles slightly on his seat, watching as Hagrid boils some water and pours it into cups, making them each a cup of tea that they are too polite to refuse. Harry accepts the large cup when Hagrid offers it to him. He sips it lightly, partially listening to the conversation taking place around him. His eyes feel heavy, worn out from his blackout earlier. He blinks repeatedly in order to keep himself awake. It’s only when the door to Hagrid’s hut flies open that Harry blinks out of his stupor. Professor Puck Gwydion steps inside, his hands covered in gloves and a black, wooly hat on his head. He smiles cheerfully at them.

“Hello, everyone!”

They smile back at him. “Hello, Professor.”

Gwydion slides into the seat beside Harry – the only available seat in the room - and smiles at him. He graciously accepts the cup of tea and stale cake Hagrid passes to him.

“’Ello, Professor,” Hagrid says. He turns to Hermione and Ron, who are cuddling lightly, Ron’s arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “Professor Gwydion ‘ere has been asking me to teach him all ‘bout magical creatures.”

Gwydion beams, his shoulder bumping Harry’s. “Fascinating, aren’t they?”

Harry bites his lip. Professor Gwydion’s thigh presses against Harry’s under the table. He remembers Parkinson’s confession from a few weeks ago, about snogging Gwydion, as well as his own partially formed thoughts of kissing him. Harry flushes brightly and looks away.

Hagrid looks close to tears he is so emotional. “It’s so nice to meet someone who appreciates the creatures of this world.” He wipes his eyes. “Today, I am going to talk about Aragog.”

“Aragog?” Gwydion asks.

Ron shudders. “A giant spider.,” he squeaks out, looking slightly peaky.

“My Acromantula,” Hagrid says. Thus begins an hour long discussion between Hagrid and Gwydion. Hagrid goes into great depth about the life of Aragog and his tragic death. Ron shrinks in on himself throughout the conversation, turning deathly pale. Hermione whispers soothingly to him. Harry watches them with amusement, zoning in and out of the conversation. As the talk starts to wind down, drowsiness hits Harry. He stands, his head spinning. “I’m going to head off,” he says, massaging his temple. “I don’t feel so great.”

Ron stands too. “We’ll walk back with you, mate.”

“No, it’s all right. I’ll walk with him.”

The three students turn to Professor Gwydion, who is now standing as he gathers up his things. Harry shares a confused glance with Ron and Hermione, but none of them say anything. Harry bids Hagrid goodbye and tells tells Ron and Hermione he’ll see them later, before leaving with Gwydion. They walk for a while in silence, before Gwydion stops and glances over his shoulder. Harry pauses and follows the Professors gaze, noticing that they are now out of sight of Hagrid’s hut.

“Professor?” Harry asks softly.

Professor Gwydion turns to face him. “Harry,” he says, a smirk on his face.

Harry barely has time to register what is happening before Gwydion’s mouth is on his own. Harry gasps, freezing in shock and confusion. His teacher is kissing him. His male teacher is kissing him. This is wrong. This is so very very wrong. _Gwydion isn’t Malfoy._ Harry places his hands flat on Gwydion’s chest and pushes him away. “No.”

Professor Gwydion frowns slightly, looking genuinely confused. “I’ve seen you watching me during class. I know that you think about me, Potter. You can have me.”

Harry shakes his head frantically, stepping back so that there is a respectable distance between himself and his professor. “No… I – I don’t want you. You’re my teacher. This is wrong.”

His voice is higher than usual and slightly panicky. Gwydion steps back, sighing heartily. “Oh, all right. If this is what you wish. It would have been lovely to shag the Savior, but I will respect your wishes, Potter. After all, Pansy Parkinson is always up for a snog.” With that, Gwydion turns around and saunters away towards the castle, leaving Harry alone.

“Blimey,” Harry mutters to himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Of course Professor Gwydion couldn’t just be a nice, young and attractive Defence teacher. Oh no. The Defence teachers always have to have _something_ more to them. Sharing a head with Voldemort, a fraud, a werewolf, a Death Eater, an evil sadistic bitch, a man that despised Harry and a pedophile. Harry sighs, rubbing his hand over his face.

_That is my fault, Harry. I jinxed the post as Defence professor when Dumbledore refused me the job. Petty, I’ll admit._

Harry scoffs at Voldemort’s voice in his head. “Go away,” he whispers. “I’ve had enough of you for today.”

Voldemort cackles. _I grow stronger, Potter. Soon… soon it is I that will control this body and you that is locked away inside this mind._

Harry shakes his head. “You’re wrong. I’m stronger than you give me credit.” He’s about to say something else when a movement to his right catches his attention. He looks over and, to his great surprise, he spots the same snake he had seen at the lake edge several weeks prior. It’s small, green body is coiled tightly around itself, watching him with its beady eyes. Harry smiles softly and flops onto the floor, sitting crossed legged, facing it. “Hello, again,” Harry hisses.

The snake seems to scowl –Harry didn’t even know that was possible – but it slithers closer to him and, after a moment’s hesitation, it coils around Harry’s outstretched arm and wraps around him. Harry strokes its head fondly. “Spying on me, are you?” Harry asks.

The snake glowers. “No.”

Harry laughs. “You saw me and… Professor Gwydion, then?”

“Yes,” the snake spits, its little tongue shooting in and out of its mouth frantically.

Harry sighs. “That wasn’t by choice, you know. I didn’t want him too. I might have thought about it occasionally. But that was just to distract me from… from someone else.”  
The snake’s body seems to simultaneously relax and tense at that. Harry sighs, staying silent as he holds the snake to his chest, continuing to caress it absentmindedly. He hasn’t been this close to an animal since Hedwig. It feels strange, touching the snake, sitting in companiable silence with it, just as he had his owl. His heart aches with sadness and loneliness as he thinks about her death, how she died attempting to defend him. Unconsciously, he starts to talk, prattling on about everything and nothing.

“I had this pet owl once,” he begins, his fingers stilling. “She was called Hedwig. She was beautiful… so beautiful. She was the first pet I ever had. The first thing that was truly mine and not my idiot cousins or my horrid aunt and uncles. Hagrid bought her for me, actually. I had just found out I was a wizard and Hagrid had taken me to Diagon Alley. I still couldn’t believe any of it. That magic was real. That I had magic. That… that my parents – that I – was famous. It was all such a shock and then Hagrid bought me Hedwig and she brought me so much peace. I was in this new, muddled, confusing world where everyone seemed to know more about me than I did, and I had her. She died saving my life, you know. When,” he sniffs, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, “when Voldemort and his Death Eaters tried to kill me. And there she was, brave and strong, defending me until the end.” Harry closes his eyes. “Everything was so easy back then, when I had just learnt who I was and begun my life here. Sure, I had to prevent Voldemort from stealing the Philosopher’s Stone, in first year. And, yeah, I had to kill Professor Quirrell. But that was simple. That was easy. Then second year came and I was hearing voices all blasted year. Turns out I was hearing a fucking Basilisk plotting murders. Oh, and of course third year I thought that a mad man was trying to kill me only to discover that, actually, said mad man was my godfather, a brilliant man, and that it was really Ron’s pet rat, Scabbers, that betrayed my parents. Then fourth year I had to get dumped into a stupid tournament that I wanted _nothing_ to do with. And, of course, our Defence teacher ended up being a Death Eater using Polyjuice Potion. Oh, and I had to watch one of my friend’s being murdered and witness Voldemort’s resurrection. Then after that everyone thought I was mental and a liar and that evil bitch of a woman liked to torture me. And then there was 6th year where I spent the entire year being forced to watch memories of Tom Riddle’s life by Dumbledore, learn about how to kill Voldemort and spend my free time being worried sick over Draco Malfoy. I almost killed him, too, which was honestly the worst moment of my life. Still is.” Harry sighs again, rubbing his face. “But even then, _it was all so simple._ Everything changed after that year. Everything. The things I was forced to do. The things I witnessed. The things I am still doing, just so that everyone else can live. So that everyone else can be free. Why do I do it? Why is it always up to me? I give everyone _everything._ My life, my freedom, my desires, my dreams. I have done everything in my power to keep everyone alive. And yet the wizarding world has never shown me commitment. They turn against me whenever it suites them. I am just a pawn in their game. One of these days, it’s going to break me. I know it. But even then, I’ll still do what I have to do. Whatever it takes. I won’t give up helping people. It’s the only thing I know how to do. I’m no good at anything else. I have no purpose.”

He’s crying now. Silent, but heavy tears that spill over his cheeks and lips, the salty taste settling in his mouth. He looks down at the small, green snake that is staring up at him with such _feeling._ Harry laughs bitterly. “You probably don’t understand a word of what I just told you, do you, little one? I doubt you concern yourself with the affairs of wizards. I wouldn’t want to either. If I could go back, if I had the choice…” Harry sighs. “Sometimes I wish that I had never learnt the truth of who I am. Sometimes I wish I was still locked in that bloody cupboard under the stairs.”

He doesn’t say another word, nor does he move. He just stares up at the sky as the sun fades, watching as the full moon rises into the darkened sky, wishing that the sound of a wolfs cry would pierce the night air. It doesn’t. Instead, he can see the silhouette of a dead man standing in the distance, gazing up at the moon that once controlled him. Harry starts to cry harder, watching through clouded eyes until the figure fades away.

**Ron**

When Ron and Hermione reach the 8thyear dormitory, they expect to see their best mate either in the sitting room, or in his bedroom. He is in neither. They frown at each other, worried.

“Professor Gwydion was with him,” Hermione says, unsure, as they stand in Harry’s empty bedroom.

Ron sits down on the bed, looking around Harry’s room. There has been something off with Harry, ever since the war. And yes, Ron knows his best mate has been grieving – they all have. But there is more to it than that. There is the Master of Death and seeing dead people thing, but there is something else. Harry admitted that much to Hermione and Ron.

Ron sighs. He wishes there was something he could do to help. Hermione sits beside him and slips her hand into his. It feels warm, soft. It sends shivers through him, that simple touch. He leans towards her, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“I love you, Hermione.”

She smiles sweetly at him. “I love you too, Ron.” She sighs. “I’m worried about Harry. I just want to help him.”

Ron brushes her hair back from her face, settling a curl behind her ear. “I know, love. I am too. But there is nothing we can do except be there for him. He’ll talk to us when he’s ready. He always does.”

But this is different. They both know it. Whatever Harry is hiding; it is worse than anything they’ve encounter before. And Ron has a sneaking suspicion that he and Hermione are both starting to clue in on what it is. _What really happened to Voldemort,_ the Secret Sharer had asked. Ron dreads the answer. But he is almost positive that Tom Riddle isn’t as dead as Harry has made him out to be.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Nine**

_We're not, no we're not friends, nor have we ever been._  
We just try to keep those secrets in a lie,  
And if they find out, will it all go wrong?  
And Heaven knows, no one wants it to.

****

\- Friends, Ed Sheeran

****

**Draco**

****

Draco has barely made it back to the dorm when Potter walks in, his face still red from crying. He’d stayed with Potter for a while after the boy had finished talking, feeling too stunned by all he had heard to move. It was only when Potter had said, absentmindedly, “I ought to go soon. Malfoy will be in the common room,” that Draco had realized that he needed to change back into human form and be in the common room when Potter got back, or else he risks revealing himself to Potter. So he had bid goodbye, slithered a fair distance away, then changed back into himself and sprinted to the 8thyear common room. He had just lain down in his usual spot by the fire, when Potter walks in.

“Hey, Malfoy,” Potter says, his voice slightly hoarse.

Malfoy offers him a smile. “Hey, Potter.”

Things have changed between them since Potter joined him for lunch that day. They talk during the day now, not just during their secret meetings at night. And they seem to be actual, honest to God friends. Malfoy will never admit it, but he likes it… likes _Potter._ The idiot is actually a decent friend. Potter’s fit in potions this morning had scared Draco more than Voldemort being in his house had. Seeing Potter writhing on the floor, his agonized screams filling the silent classroom, the blood spilling from his lightning bolt scar and coating his forehead, had sent such panic through Draco’s system that he had thought that he might pass out.

Then Potter had gripped onto him and smiled weakly at him and Malfoy had wanted nothing more than to _hug_ him and never let go. So overwhelmed by his thoughts and fears, Draco had asked to go to the bathroom, before dashing from the classroom. He’d hurriedly transformed and spent the rest of the afternoon lurking after the trio, following them to the infirmary, to Hagrid’s. Then that blasted Professor Gwydion had _kissed_ Potter and Draco had been filled with such rage that he had almost changed back into a human and punched the stupid man. The only thing that had stopped him was Potter himself, shoving the man off of him and telling him, firmly, no.

Draco sighs, sitting up and looking at Potter. Potter smiles slightly and sits beside him on the floor.   
“Mal – Draco?” Potter hesitates. Then he pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and passes it to Draco. Draco shoots Potter a curious look, but the dark haired boy just gestures for him to look at the page, so he does.

He recognizes what it is instantly. A letter from Draco’s mother. “You actually wrote to her?” he asks in surprise, looking over at Potter.

Potter nods nervously. “You don’t mind? I just… I felt I owed her a thank you, you know, for saving my life.”

Malfoy reaches out and rests his hand on Potter’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “I don’t mind.”  
He withdraws his hand and opens the letter, reading it quickly.

_**Dearest Harry Potter** _

__

_**Thank you for your letter. I appreciate your kind words. You thanked me for saving your life, but really, you saved mine. And my sons. I owe you everything, Harry.** _

__

_**You mentioned that you and Draco have become friends, of a sort. I am glad. I worry about you both. I am pleased that you are managing to put your differences aside and reconcile. I wish that we all would follow your example and learn to live with each other, despite our differences.** _

__

_**I would like to extend an invitation for you to join myself and Draco for a few days during the holidays. I understand if you do not wish to step foot in my home, but you are always welcome. I wish to thank you in person.** _

__

_**Sincerely, Narcissa Malfoy** _

Draco closes the note, swallowing. “You don’t have to come visit, Potter.”

Potter laughs lightly and bumps their shoulders together. “Malfoy, I know you seem to have difficulty accepting this concept, but you are my friend. And I would love to spend some of the Christmas holidays with you and your mum.”

Draco’s breath catches in his throat. Does Potter mean it? Does he really wish to spend the holidays with Draco? It’s one thing to be friends at school, but to be willing to hang out outside of school? At Draco’s home, a place where Potter no doubt has nightmares about? Unable to help himself, Draco turns and throws his arms around Potter in an awkward sideways hug. Potter’s arms slip around him, returning the gesture. They sit like that for a while, before Draco pulls back, clearing his throat.

“If you want to come, then you can, I suppose.”

Potter grins. He lies down on the floor, placing his head in Draco’s lap. “I’m spending Christmas with the Weasley’s, like always. But I could come home with you for the first week of the holidays, before Christmas?”

Draco, hesitantly, rests his fingers in Potter’s unruly hair and starts to card his fingers through it. Potter’s eyes slip shut and his face turns into an expression of pure bliss. Once again, Draco thinks back on Potter’s words and wonders just what happened to the boy when his parents died. _Sometimes I wish I was still locked in that bloody cupboard under the stairs._

Draco bites his lip. “Yeah. That-” he coughs. “That would work.”

They stay silent after that. Draco knows that tomorrow will be torture for Potter. The rumors will have spread about what transpired in Potions class. People will know about Potter’s fit. But, Draco supposes, it isn’t the first time Potter has had to deal with rumors. However, he thinks, gazing down at Potter’s peaceful face as he dozes off in Draco’s lap, that doesn’t make it right.

**Harry**

The last few weeks of term fly by. Sure enough, the potions class incident had flown around the school and Harry is once again the center of rumors and stares. He ignores it all. He starts to spend more time with Ron and Hermione, at Hagrid’s hut. He also begins going to Hogsmead again.

One Saturday he is in The Three Broomsticks with Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny and Neville when Malfoy and Pansy walk in, Blaise in tow. Harry watches as the pub falls silent and the other witches and wizards turn to glare at the three Slytherin’s. Harry feels a deep, burning anger in the pit of his stomach. He wishes people would stop treating the Slytherin’s like that. The war is behind them. Hatred is what started the bloody thing in the first place. So, after taking a swing of his Butterbeer, he calls out loudly, “Malfoy! Parkinson, Zabini! Over here!”  
He’s grateful that none of the Gryffindor’s say anything, having long since accept Harry’s strange relationship with Malfoy after Harry started having lunch at the Slytherin table every single lunch. He knows that some of them, namely Ginny, are having a harder time forgiving Malfoy than others, but Hermione and Ron are just as tired of hatred as Harry is and seem willing to give him a chance.

“He’s changed,” Hermione had said when Harry broached the topic with them and explained that Malfoy is his friend. “We all have.”

Neville isn’t bothered either, having agreed with Harry when he said, “The time for hatred is behind us, mate. It’s time to move on.” Although ever since he caught Harry and Draco snuggling on the sofa, Neville has been looking at them funny.

As for Luna… it seems she and Malfoy became friends of a sort when she was locked in Malfoy Manor’s dungeons.

Malfoy looks over at Harry, his carefully guarded expression slacking slightly and being replaced by a wary smile. Harry grins at him and holds up his glass of Butterbeer. Malfoy whispers something to Parkinson and Zabini, before the three of them walk over to the table where Harry and his friends are sitting. Harry is on the end of the bench so he shoves his friends up so that Malfoy can sit beside him. Zabini and Parkinson slip in opposite them, Parkinson beside Neville. Malfoy leans in to Harry subtly and whispers, “Thanks, Potter.”

Harry smiles down at his hands, blushing slightly. “Welcome, Malfoy.”

He’d thought being friends with Malfoy would stop his hopeless pining. He was very, very wrong. Instead, his long buried feelings for Malfoy have intensified into something unbearable. He doesn’t know how much longer he can restrain himself from snogging Malfoy’s stupid face.

Harry shoves his glass of Butterbeer into Malfoy’s hands and smiles contently when Malfoy sips it, before handing it back to him. He is aware of the eyes of the rest of the Three Broomsticks customers on them, so he decides to act as normal as possible.

“How’s this year’s quidditch team looking, Gin? Can’t wait for the Gryffindor-Slytherin match next week.”

Ginny beams. “We’re all right, I suppose. A bit tough without you and Ron, though. I don’t enjoy playing Seeker as much as Chaser, but there is no one else.” She eyes him hopefully. “Are you sure you don’t want to join the team? We’d all love to have you.”

Harry laughs. “As much as I miss quidditch, I don’t want to rejoin the team, Gin. We’ve had our turn. Besides, I have too much school work to catch up on. I’m already falling behind as it is.”

Hermione huffs. “I told you and Ron that we should have kept up our studies last year so that this didn’t happen.”

Ron shoots Harry a look of utter disbelief. Harry snorts. “Sure, ‘Mione. Amongst living in tents, being half starved and searching for Horcruxes, we should have had potions lessons and transfiguration tests.”

Hermione purses her lips. “It would have been a useful past time for all those nights we sat doing nothing but listening to that blasted radio!”

They all fall silent at that. Hermione closes her eyes and breathes deeply. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

Ron wraps his arm around her and kisses her cheek. “It’s alright, ‘Mione. We know.”

Harry shoves Malfoy out of the booth. “I’m going to get more Butterbeer,” he says, firmly holding onto Malfoy’s sleeve. “Anyone want anything?”

There a few ‘yes’s’ and several ‘no’s’. Harry counts up the yes’s and drags Malfoy to the bar with him. When they are at the counter Harry politely orders six Butterbeers, before turning to Malfoy as they wait for the drinks. Malfoy raises an eyebrow. Harry leans into him to whisper in his ear, his hand resting on Malfoy’s shoulder, his body pressed closely to the Slytherin’s. “Sorry, I just…” he glances back at the table where his friends are, before continuing with, “hate talking about last year.”

Harry pauses. He’s done talking, so really he should pull away, but he is enjoying the closeness of Malfoy being pressed against him. He closes his eyes and tilts his head slightly, so that his breath fans Malfoy’s cheek. He is contemplating pressing his lips to Malfoy’s smooth, pale skin when he remembers that they are in public and anyone could be watching. He pulls back slowly and flashes Malfoy a grin, as though nothing out of the ordinary is going on. Malfoy’s cheeks are rosier than usual and he purposefully avoids Harry’s gaze.

Harry is thankful when their drinks arrive and he hurriedly scoops half of them up and speedily makes his way back to the table, mentally cursing himself the entire way.

_Just kiss him already. All this teenage angst is making me sick._

Harry scowls. Not now, he thinks angrily at the voice in his head. He slips into his seat and hands out the drinks to his friends. Malfoy soon joins him. As he slips into the seat beside Harry, sliding the drinks over to Parkinson and Zabini, he presses his leg firmly against Harry’s under the table, linking their ankles together. Harry smiles softly to himself, but he pushes back gently, keeping their ankles firmly linked. He doesn’t even try to ignore the butterflies swarming in the pit of his stomach. Instead, he leans further into Malfoy’s touch and thinks to himself, _just this once I can be selfish. Just for this moment I can pretend._

Sometime later, as the group wander around the shops in Hogsmead, Parkinson corners Harry.

“You and Draco are friends now,” she accuses, backing him into a corner at Honeydukes. Harry nods, his eyes wide. “Y-yeah. I think so.”

She purses her lips. “Fine then. I suppose I’ll have to accept you, Potter. For Draco’s sake. He seems happier now than before, straight after everything.” She pauses, bites her lip. “And so do you.” She holds out her hand for him to shake. He takes it, gently. “Well then,” she continues, pulling her hand away, “I’m glad we got that cleared up, Potter. Don’t hurt him. I will kill you if you do.”

Then she saunters away to join Zabini, who is at the counter buying a bunch of sweets. Harry blinks for a few moments, frozen in shock. Did he just receive Parkinson’s blessing? He shakes his head to clear his thoughts before walking over to the chocolate section where Malfoy is lurking. Harry stops beside him, nudging his shoulder lightly. The two boys smile at each other. Harry reaches out and picks up a handful of chocolate frogs. Malfoy eyes them dubiously, carefully hidden desire concealed behind his gaze. Harry leans closer to him. “All right, Draco. I’ll buy them and you can eat them, yeah? Since you obviously don’t want to be seen buying such a common delicacy.”

Malfoy scowls. “I’d hardly call a chocolate frog a delicacy.” He pauses, considers, before whispering, “Yes please, Potter. Harry.”

Harry beams at him and takes his purchases to the counter to buy Malfoy’s chocolate.

_Pathetic,_ Voldemort scorns.

Harry just smiles cheerfully to himself. Oh, sod off, Voldy. Even _you_ can’t dampen my mood right now. He glances over his shoulder at where Malfoy is watching him, a small, affectionate smile on his face. Harry smiles back. Today is a good day. A very good day indeed.

Harry leans over Malfoy’s shoulder, watching as the Slytherin paints yet another portrait of Harry onto a large canvas. Harry has taken to following Malfoy into his art room on a daily basis, never getting tired of watching Malfoy’s fingers carefully work or looking at the many paintings and sketches that fill the walls of the room. This place has become as much a safe haven to him as it is to Malfoy.

Harry tugs the Invisibility cloak more firmly around himself. He feels guilty, hiding out in here and invading something that is obviously a secret and personal place for Malfoy. But he can’t help it. He loves Malfoy. And he loves seeing Malfoy like this, so open and concentrated as his pencil and brush create such wondrous beauty.

As he watches, Malfoy freezes, his paint brush poised over painting Harry’s eye. Malfoy slowly lowers his brush and places it on the table. Then he stands, turning around. Harry takes a step back as Malfoy scans the room slowly, his eyes narrowed. “Hello?” he calls.

Harry freezes, holding his breath. Malfoy can’t know he’s here, can he?

“Is-is someone there?” Malfoy asks again, his voice wavering slightly. “Potter?”

Harry chews his lip, trying to keep his breathing silent. Of course Malfoy would ask if it’s him if he’s sensing someone watching him. He does know about Harry’s invisibility cloak after all. Harry closes his eyes. Breathe. Then, slowly, he drops the cloak to the floor, revealing himself. Malfoy takes a startled step back, before glowering.

“Stalking me, Potter? Just because I have become your sort of friend, doesn’t mean you have the right to _follow me_ against my will! How often have you come here, mm, Potter? How many times?”

Harry winces, hating the angry and betrayed glint in Malfoy’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I first came here a while ago. The same day I had lunch at the Slytherin table for the first time.”

Malfoy’s jaw drops. “You had no right to come here, Potter.”

Harry steps closer to Malfoy, keeping his expression genuine and open. “I know. I shouldn’t have. But I was curious and after the first time, well, your art is incredible, Draco. It’s so beautiful and… I love watching you. Paint or draw, that is. You just look so happy when you get into your work and I couldn’t help but come back.”

Malfoy turns his heated eyes to the floor, thinking. He whispers to the ground, “You think my art is beautiful?”

Harry smiles and steps right up to him, reaching out to take Malfoy’s hand in his and squeeze it lightly. He has to bite back an enormous grin when Malfoy interlaces his fingers with Harry’s. “Yeah, Draco. I do.”

Malfoy looks up at him then, his eyes boring into Harry’s. It takes everything in Harry not to lean forward and press his lips against Malfoy’s. But he manages to restrain himself, even when Malfoy tentatively leans forward and wraps his arms around Harry in a tight hug. They stand like that for a while, in each other’s arms, and Harry feels so happy he could burst. He wishes he could freeze time in this moment, the love of his life in his arms, his head buried in the crook of Malfoy’s neck.

“Thank you,” Malfoy whispers.

Harry just grins against Malfoy’s shoulder. “You’re welcome, Draco.”

  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Ten**

_We can go where you want_  
Say the word and I’ll take ya __  
_But I’d rather stay on the sofa_ _  
_ _On the sofa, with you_

****

  * Sofa, Ed Sheeran



****

**Harry**

****

Harry sticks close to Malfoy, Ron and Hermione as they exit the Hogwarts Express onto Platform 9 ¾ for the start of the Christmas holidays. As soon as they step off the train, Harry spots the Weasley’s standing in a huddle. Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley, George, Percy, Bill and Charlie. Harry beams at them and allows Molly to scoop him up into a hug. He pulls back and then shakes Arthur’s hand, smiling politely at the Weasley siblings. Hermione greets the family before walking over to her parents. She is spending the Christmas holidays with them this year, but Harry has no doubt she will be at the Weasley’s majority of the time.

Ginny walks over to them after saying goodbye to Luna. She stops beside Harry and wraps an arm around him in a sideways hug. “Hey, Harry.”

“Hey, Gin,” he replies, squeezing her back. He’s glad they are still friend’s, despite the break up. Despite everything. He looks over at Ron, who smiles back at him. Ron isn’t upset about it all either. Harry frowns then, realizing that Malfoy is missing. He looks around, spotting Malfoy standing away from the group by himself. Of course, Harry thinks, Narcissa isn’t able to come fetch him, since she is under house arrest. Malfoy is standing with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, staring uncomfortably at the floor. Harry looks back at Molly.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll see you in five days, yeah.”

Molly squeezes his shoulder. “Are you sure you want to spend time at the Malfoy’s? You seemed sure in your letter, but…”

Harry smiles reassuringly at her. “Draco and I are friends now, Mrs Weasley. And Narcissa and I have been writing to each other. I want to see her. If I feel uncomfortable at any moment I’ll come straight to the Burrow.”

Molly sighs, patting his cheek. “If you’re sure, Harry.”

He nods. “I am.”

He hugs everyone goodbye, before walking over to Malfoy. He beams at him and slips his arm through Malfoy’s. “Let’s go.”

Malfoy looks down at their linked arms. He glances back up at Harry, eyebrow raised. Harry just leans into him and smiles. “Get used to it, Malfoy.”

Malfoy rolls his eyes and starts to walk, leaving Harry’s arm in his. Harry counts this as a win and falls into step beside Malfoy. They walk out of the crowded area before holding onto themselves and their back packs and Disapparating on the spot. They land outside the gates of Malfoy Manor. Harry leans forward for a moment to recover from the Apparation. Then he straightens up and looks over at Malfoy. Malfoy is shuffling on the spot, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Malfoy mutters.

Harry slips his hand into Malfoy’s and squeezes. “I already told you, Malfoy. I want to.”  
Malfoy smiles softly at him, before opening the gates. They walk up the entrance way together. Harry grips the straps of his back pack firmly as they walk. When they reach the front door, it flies open and Narcissa steps outside. She runs towards Malfoy and flings her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Harry watches with genuine happiness at the reunion. Narcissa is whispering, “my boy, my boy,” over and over. Malfoy is clinging to her just as tightly. Harry looks down at the floor, not wanting to intrude on a private moment, but then Malfoy is gripping his hand tightly and pulling him forward. He looks up, smiling shyly at Narcissa who is watching him carefully. She reaches out and takes his hand, clutching it in both of her own. “Harry. Thank you for coming.”

He smiles back at her, gripping Malfoy’s hand tighter as the hand in Narcissa’s turns lax. Malfoy clears his throat. Narcissa drops Harry’s hand and sighs softly. “Come inside, then.”

Harry trails behind them, nerves swarming his stomach. He hasn’t been inside this house since… well, since they were caught by snatchers. Narcissa leaves them alone as Malfoy drags Harry upstairs. Malfoy stops outside one of the rooms and coughs. “This is my room. You can sleep in the one across the hall.”

Harry glances over at his assigned room, eying the dark oak door uneasily. Malfoy rolls his eyes and walks over to it, shoving it open. Harry follows him inside, looking around the dark room with interest. The furniture is black and ugly, dark and sad. It makes Harry feel cold and empty just being inside this room.

_Beautiful,_ Voldemort coos. _We’ll be quite comfortable in here; won’t we, Harry?_

Harry ignores him and stares at the dark four post bed with blood red, silk sheets and blankets. Harry feels his mouth part slightly. “No way, Malfoy. I am _not_ staying in here.”

Malfoy smirks at him. “Why ever not, Potter? I think this room suits your disposition.”

Harry shoves Malfoy’s arm lightly, jokingly. “Oi!” He says. “Don’t be a git, Malfoy.”

Malfoy snickers. “If this room bothers you so much, I can stick you in one of the others.” He hesitates. “This is the only other bedroom near mine. The rest are on the other side of the house.”

Harry pauses, thinking. Stay in this creepy, depressing room opposite Malfoy’s or stay in another room, most likely more pleasant, far away from Malfoy’s? “I suppose this room will have to do,” Harry says despairingly.

Malfoy’s wide grin is worth it.

Harry drops his bag onto the bed and turns back to Malfoy. “Gonna show me your room?”

Malfoy smirks at him, guiding him from the creepy bedroom and into his own. Harry stares in awe as he enters Malfoy’s bedroom. It is perfectly tidy and clean, not a single item out of place. There are Quidditch posters on the walls, as well as framed art works – Harry can tell that Malfoy painted some of them himself, due to the style. There are some photographs of Malfoy and his parents, as well as photographs of Parkinson and Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle. There is even a picture of Malfoy and some girl Harry has never seen before snogging. He purposefully looks away from that one. There is a large bed with Slytherin green covers, a pristine desk, a large wardrobe and a comfy looking charm situated by the window. Harry walks over to it and finds that he is looking out at a large expanse of greenery. It’s a beautiful view.

He looks back at Malfoy, who is watching him nervously, as though scared of his reaction. Harry smiles. “I would much rather stay in this room, if you don’t mind,” he teases. “It’s gorgeous.”

Malfoy blushes, looking pleased, but he covers this with a coarse, “As if I’d ever share a room with _you,_ Potter.”

Harry flops into the chair. This is going to be fun, he thinks, as Malfoy sits down on the edge of the bed, his eyes still glued on Harry. Five days at Malfoy Manor with Draco Malfoy, his crush and enemy turned frenemy. He has never been so excited for Christmas holidays in his life.

That night, as he and Malfoy settle down for dinner with Narcissa, Harry tries to remain calm. However, despite his determination to get along with Narcissa and forgive her, he cannot help but feel a tad uneasy about her presence. He doesn’t talk much, choosing to remain silent, eat the odd, expensive looking meal, and listen respectively as Malfoy and Narcissa chat away. Harry zones out by the time the starter is finished and the main course is being served to them by healthy looking house elves. Harry only tunes back into the conversation when he hears Narcissa say, “I got a letter from your father last week, Draco.”

Harry looks up, his fork poised to his lips. He tries not to be obvious in his interest, but the Malfoy’s are so busy staring at each other that he doubts they’d notice if he dropped dead right this second. Malfoy carefully puts down his knife and fork, dabbing his mouth with a cloth napkin.

“Oh?” Malfoy asks, seemingly unconcerned. Harry can tell that it’s a façade, the tightness of Malfoy’s jaw giving him away.

“He’s doing as well as can be expected,” Narcissa says. “He misses you, Draco. You should write to him.”

Malfoy scowls down at his plate. “I don’t want to write to him.”

Narcissa closes her eyes briefly. She looks pained. Harry eyes her, noticing how pale and broken she looks. It must be hard for her, Harry thinks. Her husband is locked up in Azkaban. And the Malfoy name is tarnished, the once proud family shunned and ashamed. Under the table, Harry snakes his hand out and grips Malfoy’s. Malfoy keeps a blank expression, not making any signs that he is shocked by Harry touching him. Instead, Malfoy slips his fingers between Harry’s and squeezes lightly.

“Draco, darling, please just write to him. At least once, please.”

Malfoy slowly and purposefully picks up his fork and continues eating. Harry winces inwardly. _You should have seen the dinners when I was around,_ Voldemort remarks.

Harry scoffs. _I did._ He politely turns to Narcissa, his hand not leaving Malfoy’s. “Thank you for letting me stay here. With you. It means a lot.”

Narcissa smiles at him. “You’re welcome, Harry. Thank you for coming.”

They fall back into easy conversation and the rest of the meal flies by. After finishing the last of the dessert – treacle tart because Malfoy had told his mother it was Harry’s favorite – Harry and Malfoy go upstairs. As they reach their rooms, they pause in the hallway, looking at each other. Malfoy glances at his door, before tugging Harry into his room after him. “You’d end up in here anyways,” Malfoy reasons as they sit down on Malfoy’s bed. “To read, I mean.”

Harry just smiles.

The next morning dawns bright and sunny, the winter rays flowing through the glass window, fluttering over Harry’s face. He blinks against the light, peeling his eyes open slowly. He is comfortable. More comfortable than he has been in ages. He buries himself further into the warmth and opens his eyes slowly. It takes him a sleepy, dazed moment to realize that he is staring at a pale expanse of skin. He pulls back slightly, but an arm that is curled around his back and holding him in place stops him from moving too far. He blinks at Malfoy, who smiles shyly at him. Harry blushes and drops his head back onto Malfoy’s shoulder, his forehead pressed to Malfoy’s neck. They lie in silence for a while longer, neither daring to breathe a word lest it breaks the fragile moment they are sharing. But after several minutes, Harry sits up, carefully avoiding looking at Malfoy.

“I need to the loo,” he mumbles, slipping out of Malfoy’s bed. He walks quickly into the adjoined bathroom and shuts the door. Harry closes his eyes for a moment, sighing, before he turns to face the mirror. He swallows and leans down to splash cold water on his flushed face. His feelings for Malfoy are slowly driving him mad. It was one thing to hopelessly pine from afar, but to pine from such a close distance? From Malfoy’s bed? No. It is too much for Harry. Far too much.

_Well, maybe if you would just man up, Potter, and kiss Draco, you wouldn’t have to pine at all._

Mm, Harry mentally hums in response. Probably not. Because I’d be dead.

Voldemort laughs.

Harry hurriedly uses the loo and washes his hands before stepping back out into Malfoy’s bedroom. Malfoy is stood by the window, staring down at the garden. Harry walks over to him and looks outside too. He smiles.

“Snow!”

Malfoy shoots him a grin, “Yes, Potter. Snow. Go get dressed so that we can join my mother for breakfast.”

Harry beams at him. “Sure, Draco.” He hurries from the room and into the guest room across the hall where he had left his things the previous day. He unzips his back pack, which he’d left on the bed, and tugs out some clean clothes. Underwear, jeans, a t-shirt. He pulls them on, along with a pair of warm socks and some old shoes. He glances in the old fashioned, gothic mirror that is hung on the wall, staring at his messy mop of curls. He shrugs. He has long since given up on his hair.

There is a knock on the door and then Malfoy slips his head inside. “You ready?”

Harry grins at him and walks over to join him. They head down stairs together, entering the dining hall. Narcissa is already sat at the table sipping her tea, whilst house leaves toddle around the room, placing plates of cakes, scones and pastries on the table. She smiles slightly when they walk inside. It looks sort of pained, but Harry ignores that and smiles back, keeping his expression light and happy. She politely asks how they slept, before they all eat in silence. The food turns out to be delicious and Harry has never had such a great breakfast before, not even at Hogwarts. He scoffs down endless platefuls, listening to the stilted conversation between Malfoy and Narcissa.

Once he is done, he leans back in the chair and sighs in content. Malfoy glances over at him and stifles a smile. He stands. “Potter and I are done, thank you, mother. We will see you later.”

Harry takes that as his cue, standing and following Malfoy from the room. As they walk up the stairs, they pass by a large window and Harry pauses to gaze out. “Please, Malfoy,” he begins, “can’t we go outside in the snow?”

Malfoy looks horrified by the idea but he relents. Harry cheers with enthusiasm and pulls Malfoy the rest of the way upstairs. They grab their coats, boots, hats, scarves and gloves, as it looks freezing outside. Then they head back downstairs and out of the house, into the gardens. The second they step out into the icy air, Harry’s boots crunching on the snow, a small laugh falls from Harry’s lips. He runs out into the snow, twirling on the spot as small flakes tumble from the sky and litter his skin. He blinks through the snowflakes settled on his eyelids at Malfoy, who is still stood on the steps, watching him.

“Come on, Malfoy!” he calls, grinning cheekily as he stoops to mold a ball out of the snow. Malfoy shakes his head, a small huff of laughter falling from his parted lips. He steps out into the snow and Harry tosses the snowball at him – hard. Malfoy splutters indignantly and immediately scoops up a snowball of his own, throwing it back at Harry. Harry squeals in a very unmanly way and ducks behind a tree. He scoops up more snow and they throw snowball after snowball at each other – harder, faster, bigger. Soon, they are chasing each other around the garden at high speed, snow flying between them. Harry laughs heartily as Malfoy chases him. He is so caught up in the game that he doesn’t see the tree root jutting out from the icy surface. His foot catches on the root, and he plummets down into the snow, landing face first. He winces, rolling over onto his back. “Shit, that’s cold,” he gasps.

Malfoy stops beside him, cackling hysterically as he takes in Harry’s wet face. Harry narrows his eyes at him, before reaching out as quick as lightning and pulling Malfoy down beside him. Malfoy splutters, landing heavily in the snow. They stare at each other for a moment, before they start laughing hysterically. As their laughter slowly starts to fade, they remain lying in the snow. After a while, Harry decides to speak. “I wasn’t expecting your bedroom to look like that.”

“Oh?” Malfoy replies, staring up at the gray sky. “What did you expect?”

Harry laughs. “Something similar to the bedroom you’ve dumped me in.”

Malfoy laughs. “I’ve never had a bedroom like that. Slytherin green always and forever.” Malfoy pokes him casually. “And you, Potter? I bet you had some deluxe room with a family that waited on you hand and foot. You were, after all, the Boy Who Lived. Even your Muggle relatives had to have known that.”

Harry stills, his smile dropping. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Malfoy turn his head to look at him. Harry swallows hard, thinking about what to say. “Remember when we were playing that game? And I said I didn’t get on with my family?”

Malfoy nods slowly. “Yeah.”

“My aunt and uncle are the worst sort of Muggles the world has ever seen. They treat my cousin as though he is God’s greatest gift to this earth. It’s ridiculous. The amount of birthday presents he gets, the love and adoration my aunt and uncle dote on him. You know, he even had two bedrooms.”

Malfoy reaches out, his fingers trailing up Harry’s arm. “And you? What did you get from them?”  
Harry laughs bitterly. “A cupboard. They made me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. I cooked their meals. I did their laundry. I was silent, unloved and unwanted. They hated me – they probably still do. I wouldn’t know, I haven’t seen them since they left, just before I went into hiding last year. They knew that I was a wizard, even though they didn’t tell me _. Merlin_ , Petunia, my mother’s sister, despised that I was ‘strange’, just like my mum. She was devastated that I didn’t manage to get myself killed, just like mum and dad. She’d probably be furious that I didn’t let Voldemort murder me.” He pauses, breathes. “My Uncle Vernon – he absolutely detested me. He would… hit me, sometimes.” Malfoy tenses beside him. “When I did something wrong - usually accidental magic, of course, I didn’t know that it was magic, since I had no clue that I was a wizard – they would lock me in the cupboard for days, with no food. Or water. When Hagrid showed up, telling me everything I never knew, about magic and Voldemort and my parents – I have never been so happy. I was finally able to escape my family.”

Malfoy slips his fingers between Harry’s and squeezes lightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t know. All those things I said… I never knew.”

Harry turns his head to look at Malfoy. “It’s okay. It’s in the past. I never have to go back there again.”

Malfoy chews his lip. His expression is so opened and pained, unlike anything Harry has ever seen on the Slytherin’s face before. Malfoy’s face is red from the cold, his hair wet from the melting snow. Harry realises for the first time just how damp and cold he is. He sits up, tugging Malfoy with him.

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

Malfoy stands, wiping his hands on his wet trousers. They trudge through the garden together and into the Manor. They make their way quickly into their respective bedrooms, each going to take a warm shower in order to fight off the chill. Harry steps into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He turns the hot tap in the shower on quickly, before peeling off his wet clothes. He steps under the spray, sighing contently at the warmth soaking into his skin. He tilts his head back, the hot water pouring over his face and skin. He grabs the shampoo bottle left on the shelf and rubs it into his hair. He rinses it out, lavishes soap over his body before washing it away, and steps out of the waterfall cocoon. He wraps a towel around himself, drying off.

Once clean and dressed, he wanders across the hallway and into Malfoy’s bedroom. Malfoy is nowhere to be seen, but Harry can here the flow of water coming from the bathroom. Harry flops onto Malfoy’s bed, waiting for the other boy to emerge. He sighs, glancing around the room. He narrows his eyes at a book he spots on the bedside table, squinting. He rolls over onto his stomach and reaches out, his fingers closing around the book. He rests the book on the bed as he lies there, propped up on his elbows. He opens to the first page, smiling slightly as he takes in the first drawing. So this is another of Malfoy’s sketch books. The drawing isn’t as good as the ones Harry has seen in Malfoy’s art room at Hogwarts, but he suspects that this book is from when Malfoy was much younger. The first drawing is a rough sketch of Narcissa. She looks beautiful and regal in the drawing. Harry is once again blown away by Malfoy’s skill. He turns to the next page, not even surprised when he comes across pictures of himself, Ron and Hermione. He keeps on paging, completely enrapt in the content before him. As he gets further into the book, the drawings and paintings become more detailed, the talent increasing. He pauses when he reaches a simple, pencil drawing of a young boy with floppy hair, gently stroking a kitten, the child’s eyes alight with joy and inquisitiveness. It takes Harry another moment to realize that the child in the drawing is _Malfoy._

“That’s my first memory,” a voice says behind him.

Harry glances over his shoulder, smiling as he spots Malfoy standing beside the end of the bed, his hair still damp from his shower. Malfoy sits down on the bed beside Harry, looking down at the drawing. “I was three,” Malfoy says, his fingers reaching out to graze the page. “I was playing outside in the snow. My mother was with me. I was building a snowman when I heard a meow behind me. I turned around and spotted a small, black kitten watching me.” Malfoy smiles softly. “I’d always wanted a pet, but father – he doesn’t like animals. I walked towards it, reached out and stroked it. It let me for a few moments, before running away. I can’t remember anything else from that day, but I do know that I was happy.”

Harry smiles, imagining a small Malfoy playing with a kitten. He chuckles softly at the thought. “That’s a beautiful first memory,” he says softly.

Malfoy lies down beside Harry, his face a light with a small, happy grin. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” He glances over at Harry. “And you? What’s your first memory.”

Harry’s happiness fades abruptly, his expression clouding over. He stares at the ceiling, silent, unyielding. _Tell him, Potter. Go on. Tell Draco how you can remember your Mudblood mother’s screams. How you can see your father’s body sprawled across the floor._

“Shut up,” Harry whispers.

“Sorry?” Malfoy questions, not having heard what Harry said.

Harry swallows. “My first memory is of my parents dying.”

Malfoy freezes, his body tense. “Potter – Harry, I didn’t mean- “

“I know,” Harry reassures him. “It’s okay. Well, it isn’t okay, but it’s okay that you asked.” He breathes in deeply. “I don’t remember what we were doing before Voldemort showed up. I just remember my mum carrying me upstairs, holding onto me tightly. Over her shoulder I saw a flash of green light and my dad falling to the floor.” Harry closes his eyes as he speaks, transported back into the memory that the dementors force upon him. “Mum took me into my bedroom, locking the door behind us. She placed me in my crib and knelt before me. She was talking, telling me that I had to be brave, that I had to be strong. She kept saying how much she and my dad loved me, how I needed to remember that, Then the bedroom door was blasted open and Voldemort stepped inside. He gave mum a chance to move. He’d promised Snape that he wouldn’t kill her. But mum wouldn’t move out of the way. She wouldn’t let him get to me. So… so he killed her. I can still hear her screams sometimes.” He stops, letting out a shuddering breath. “Voldemort tried to kill me then. I don’t remember much of it. Nothing at all, really. Just that it hurt. Then he was gone. Mum and dad were gone. I was alone. Sirius showed up at some point, as did Hagrid and Snape. But I don’t remember it.” He turns his head to look at Malfoy. “I didn’t use to remember their deaths. But the dementors…. I see them dying every time a dementor is nearby. That’s why they affected me so much in third year.”

Neither boy speaks again after that, each lost in their own thoughts. It’s a long time before they gather the strength to leave the bed.

**Draco**

The next morning, Draco glances over at Potter as they sit by the fireplace and says, “I’m the snake you’ve been talking to.”

Potter, who is sipping on a glass of Pumpkin juice, chokes, the liquid squirting out his mouth. “What?”

Draco avoids eye contact, feeling too guilty. “I am the snake… it’s my animagus form.”

Potter shoves him. “Malfoy, are you telling me you’ve been stalking me in snake form?”

Draco flushes. “… no?”

Potter bursts out laughing. “I can’t even be angry at you.”

Draco risks a glance at him. “Even though you poured out your heart to me without knowing it’s me?”

Potter grins. “You’re pretty adorable as a snake.”

Draco looks away and blushes.

Draco glances over at Potter as they eat breakfast the morning Potter is due to leave for the Weasley’s. Potter is so engrossed in his eggs that he doesn’t notice Draco’s stares. He watches Potter for a moment longer, smiling softly as the dark haired boy wolfs down his meal. After hearing all the of tales of how Potter’s family starved him, it sends a happy thrill through his body to to see the boy eating to his heart’s content. His eyes zone in on Potter’s lips as his mouth encloses around the spoon full of yoghurt. Draco swallows as he eyes Potter’s mouth. He hurriedly tears his eyes away and returns to his own meal. Across the table, his mother stands and smiles at Potter.

“I’ll be off to that meeting at the Ministry, about my house arrest sentence. Harry, it has been lovely having you here.”

Potter stands immediately and walks over to Draco’s mother, wrapping her in a warm embrace. Draco watches opened mouthed as his mother hugs Potter back, her hand carding affectionately through his hair. “Come visit again, Harry,” she says.

Potter smiles brightly. “I will. Thank you so much for having me. I’ve loved being here.”

Narcissa smiles, cups Potter’s face lightly, and pats his cheek. The door flies open then and two Aurors swarm into the room.

“Mrs Malfoy,” one says. “We are here to escort you to the Ministry for your hearing.”

Narcissa nods. “Right then, let’s go. I’ll see you later, Draco. Goodbye, Harry.”

The Aurors freeze and turn their attention to Potter, who turns red and stares at his shoes, trying to avoid the Aurors awestruck gazes. “Mr Potter, sir, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Potter shuffles on the spot, clearly uneasy. “The Malfoys’ are friends’ of mine.”

The Aurors look extremely confused by this, sharing raised eyebrows. Potter coughs. “Well, are you going?”

The Aurors are all business again, nodding solemnly. “Yes, Mr Potter.”

“Look after Narcissa,” Potter says as one of the Aurors grabs her by the arm roughly. The Aurors nod and then escort Narcissa from the room.

Draco walks over to Potter’s side. “Saint Potter, awed by all.”

Potter laughs, nudging his shoulder against Draco’s. The boys grin at each other for a long moment, before Potter sighs and says, “I should go grab my bag. The Weasley’s will be expecting me soon. The Floo has been connected, right?”

Draco nods, his throat clogging up. He doesn’t want Potter to go. These past few days have been brilliant. And Potter… he’s… Draco sighs tiredly as he watches Potter walk out of the room. He doesn’t know what it is he’s been feeling whenever he’s around Potter recently, but the butterflies in his stomach won’t stop swirling and the blushes coating his face are becoming far more frequent. He closes his eyes, thinking of all the mornings he has woken up to the sweet scent of Potter and the feel of him pressed against Draco.

He’s jolted from his revenue when Potter reappears, his back pack fixed firmly on his back. Draco’s heart skips a beat.

“Well, guess I’ll be off,” Potter says, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans.

Draco sighs, trailing behind Potter to the fireplace. “I suppose so.”

Potter stops just before the fireplace, turning to face Draco. “Thanks for letting me stay, Malfoy.”

“You’re welcome, Potter,” Draco says. Then, before he can really think about what he’s doing, he leans forward and presses his lips to Potter’s cheek. He pulls back as abruptly as he leant in. They stare at each other, wide eyed. Draco can feel the harsh blush creeping up his face and he instantly wants the floor to eat him alive. Potter is staring at him with such wide eyes and Draco is positive that the poor boy is hyperventilating.

“B-bye,” Potter stammers out, stumbling backwards into the fireplace and stuttering, “t-the Burrow.” Draco can only watch as Potter disappears in a swirl of smoke. Draco blinks. What in Merlin’s name did he just do? He runs his hands over his face, his heart racing as fast as a snitch in his chest. Potter is going to kill him.

**Harry**

Harry stumbles out of the Floo and into the middle of the Burrow, his face flaming and his heart racing. Malfoy kissed him. _Malfoy kissed him._ He places a hand over his mouth as he starts to giggle hysterically.

_Honestly, Harry, stop being such a girl,_ Voldemort scowls. Harry just laughs harder. He is still laughing, bent over, tears streaming down his face, when Ginny and Ron step into the room, staring at him with large eyes.

“Harry?” Ron ventures. “Are you okay, mate?”

Harry stands up straight, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, sorry.” He coughs, trying to calm his hysterics. “I just… never mind. Hello.”

“Hi,” Ginny says cautiously, looking at him with narrowed, concerned eyes.

Harry sniffs, still beaming uncontrollably. “So, how’s the hols, Gin? Ron?”

The Weasley siblings nod slowly. “Good. Harry, are you sure you’re okay?”

Harry walks over to them and wraps an arm around each of their shoulders. “Brilliant. I’m brilliant.” He lets out another, carefree laugh. “So, what have I missed?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter. Prepare yourselves. I hope you all enjoy it. xx

**Chapter Eleven**

_And I miss the way you make me feel, and it's real  
We watched the sunset over the castle on the hill_

****

  * Castle On The Hill, Ed Sheeran



****

**Harry**

****

Harry grins the moment he spots Malfoy sat on the sofa in the 8thyear common room. He wanders over to the couch, flopping down beside the Slytherin. Malfoy jumps, dropping his book in surprise.

“Potter!” He exclaims.

Harry beams, reaching out to rest his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Malfoy. Have a good Christmas?”  
Malfoy stares at him for a few tense moments, before he slowly closes his book. He stares down at the cover for a moment, before saying, “It was good. I got a jumper off Mrs Weasley.”

Harry snorts. “Yes, she said she was going to send you one. Made out of Slytherin green wool.”

Malfoy’s lips quirk into a small smile. “Yeah. It’s comfy.”

Harry throws his head back and laughs. He can’t help it. _Draco Malfoy_ calling one of Molly Weasley’s Christmas jumpers comfortable after years of mocking Harry and Ron for wearing them. Once the sound has died in his throat, he stands, tugging Malfoy with him. “How about going flying?”

Malfoy widens his eyes as he stares at him. “Now? At midnight?”

Harry beams. “Why not? No one will be around. It’ll be fun. Come flying with me, Draco. Please”  
Malfoy stares at Harry for a few, hard moments, before sighing dramatically and saying, “Oh, if I have to.”

Harry breaks into a wide grin and throws his arms around Malfoy in a fierce hug. Then he pulls back, slipping his hand into Malfoy’s. “Come on, then, Dray. Can I call you Dray? I think I’m gonna…”

Malfoy’s face contorts into a fierce glare. Harry laughs. “Or not. Guess I’ll stick to ferret.”

“Don’t you dare!” Malfoy objects as they slip out of the school building and down into the grounds. They accio their brooms and before they know it, they are soaring through the air, the cold air whipping past them as they fly in the night. Harry laughs out loud as they chase each other, each trying to out fly the other. Harry glances over his shoulder, beaming as he takes in Malfoy’s wind swept appearance. He slows down, Malfoy copying him and drawing to a stop, hovering in the air beside him.

“Okay, Potter?” Malfoy asks.

Harry stares at him. He is so in love with this boy, it’s ridiculous. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in Malfoy’s messy hair, flushed cheeks, red lips. He wants to drag the boy towards him, press his lips against his, snog the living daylights out of him. He gulps.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

_Honestly, Potter. Man up and kiss him. I am so sick of you and your pining. You kiss him, or else I will._

Harry blinks. What? What! What do you mean you will? Harry thinks.

Voldemort laughs. _I am stronger than you think, Potter. One day soon, I will control this body. I promise you that._ Harry swallows hard and turns away from Malfoy. “Catch me if you can!” He calls, diving down on his broom and plummeting through the air at high speed. He hears Malfoy’s indignant cry behind him, before the Slytherin zooms after him. Harry pushes Voldemort to the back of his mind. Instead, he lets Malfoy consume him and he falls into an abyss of unfulfilled dreams.

They fall into a new routine. Harry spends most days with Malfoy in the art room, watching him paint and draw. They spend their evenings in the common room with the other 8thyears and then around midnight they sneak out to fly. Harry is thrilled. Malfoy is more affectionate than ever, even initiating hugs on occasion. It’s three weeks into term, just after a flying session, when it happens.

Harry lands, jumping off his broom. Malfoy stands beside him and they grin at each other. The air around them is fizzling with tension. Harry’s grin fades as he stares intently at Malfoy, who looks back at him. Both their gazes flutter to the others lips. Harry swallows. This is it. He is going to kiss Malfoy. He has to. He thinks he might die if he doesn’t.

“Draco,” He whispers, leaning closer.

A moment before their lips touch, a flare of pain erupts in his head. He drops to his knees, clutching his forehead in agony as he screams. Malfoy kneels beside him, his face pale and his hands frantic as they scramble over Harry’s skin, his name falling repeatedly from Malfoy’s lips. Harry squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as he tries to chase away the pain and the voice echoing through his mind. He pants heavily. “Go away, go away, go away,” he chants, the sticky feeling of blood coating his fingers where they grip his head. He can’t breathe. He can’t move. He can’t think.

_You feel that, Potter. That’s me, taking control. That’s me pressing against your mind. That’s me, consuming you, devouring you, owning you._

Harry shakes his head, crying loudly. Then the pressure fades and the agony traveling through his veins and pressing against his skull dulls to an ache. He vaguely gains back awareness of the world around him. It only takes him a moment to realize just how violently he is shaking, and that he is in Malfoy’s arms. The Slytherin boy is whispering to him, holding him, and Harry lets out another choked sob and clings Malfoy back with every ounce of his strength. He sobs into the Slytherin’s chest, embarrassed and ashamed. As his crying quietens down, he loosens his grip on Malfoy’s soaking jumper.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Malfoy holds him tighter. “No, Harry. Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. It’s all okay, You’re okay.”

Harry sniffs, curling into Malfoy. They sit in silence for a long time, Harry’s breathing evening out. He sags against Malfoy, exhausted after his attack. His body feels like lead, his mind heavy. He finally mumbles out, “It’s a side effect of the link Voldemort and I shared. The connection… this happens sometimes.” No need to inform Malfoy that this is from the fact that Voldemort is sharing his mind, and not the fact that Voldemort is dead, as Malfoy and the rest of the world believe. Malfoy runs his fingers through Harry’s hair. “Come on, Harry. Let’s get you to bed.” Harry follows him willingly. Malfoy doesn’t leave him that night.

Voldemort leaves him alone for the next week. Harry and Malfoy continue with their midnight flying sessions, neither mentioning the night of Harry’s attack. Harry doesn’t try to kiss Malfoy again, and Malfoy doesn’t try to kiss him. Harry does, however, catch Malfoy watching him, staring at him. Harry only notices because he is busy staring back. One night, after they spend hours flying, they lie together on the castles roof, their sides pressed against each other’s. Harry stares up at the stars, the twinkling balls of gas bright against the dark sky. Draco reaches up a hand, pointing out a few of the bright stars.

“See that?” Malfoy says, his finger tracing an outline in the sky.

Harry narrows his eyes, following Malfoy’s finger. “Wait, is that… the Draco constellation?”

Malfoy turns to face him, a wide grin spreading across his face, his eyes twinkling. “Yes, it is.”

Harry laughs lightly. “Show me another.”

Malfoy stares at him hard for a while, before looking up at the sky. He once again traces an outline of stars with his finger. “See that one? That’s the Canis Major constellation. And that star there? That’s Sirius.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat. Sirius… He closes his eyes, taking in a large gulp of air, before he opens them again and looks up at the star. It shines brighter than the rest, standing out in the dark. He reaches out and takes Malfoy’s hand in his. “I miss him.”

Malfoy squeezes his hand back, whispering, “I know.”

Harry breathes out slowly. Then, deciding to do what feels right, he curls up at Malfoy’s side and rest his head on Malfoy’s chest. The blond tenses for a moment, before wrapping his arm around Harry’s back and holding him closer. They lie like that for a while, Malfoy pointing out more stars and constellations. As the night wears on, Harry finds himself dozing off, wrapped in the warmth of Malfoy’s body.

When Harry wakes up a few hours later, the morning sky is still dark, but the light is starting to creep out from behind the clouds. Harry blinks dazedly, pulling himself carefully from Malfoy’s arms and sitting up on the roof. He glances down at his friend and smile softly at the calm and peaceful expression on his sleeping face. Harry leans down and presses a kiss to his crease free forehead. Harry looks back up at the sky, the constellations Malfoy showed him no longer as visible. However, he can still make out the brightest star in the sky and it makes him smile.

At that moment, a harsh throbbing pounds at his temple. No, he thinks desperately. Not now. Please not now. But within moments of the pains arrival, he is standing and moving against his will. He tries to stop moving, but he unwillingly mounts his broom and before he knows it he has flown away from Malfoy and the roof and to the top of the Astronomy tower. He climbs off his broom and the next thing he knows he is standing on the edge of the astronomy tower.

He looks down at the long drop, his heart racing as he teeters dangerously close to the edge. He tries to step backwards, but he can’t, his limbs refusing to cooperate. He tries again, determinedly trying to raise a single foot, but it won’t budge, as though glued to the ground.

_You see my power. I can control you. I can bend you to my will. If I want you to jump, I can make you jump. I own you, Harry Potter._

“No… no you don’t. You could never… I’m stronger than you,” Harry whispers.

His body lurches forward and he screams, gripping onto the railing. He clings to it, trembling. Voldemort just laughs.

_Scared, Potter? I can feel your heart racing._ My _heart racing. I own this body. I control your mind. I have the power here, not you._

“Not true,” Harry whispers back, his knuckles turning white from the tightness of his grip on the railing as his body sways dangerously over the edge. “If I die, you die too. You’d never kill me.”

_No? Oh, Harry. If I don’t get to live, then neither do you. I can end your existence anytime I feel like it. You’re my puppet. My toy._

Harry bites his lip, shaking his head as tears spill from his eyes. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this. Please just stop. Please… I can’t _do_ this,” he sobs.

Voldemort laughs darkly, his cold wave of emptiness consuming Harry, leaving him empty, cold and numb. He gasps out shaky breathes between his harsh cries as his body once again jerks and throws itself off the astronomy tower. This time his fingers’ grasp on the railing slips and he screams as he starts to fall. He closes his eyes, his lips trembling as he accepts that this is it. He is going to die. He is falling and there is nothing he can do about it, when slim fingers close around his wrist. His eyes fly open and meet the wide, frantic gaze of Malfoy.

“Harry,” Malfoy gasps, clutching onto Harry’s wrist tightly. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Harry sobs in relief and swings his other hand up to grip Malfoy’s. The Slytherin yanks on his wrists and pulls him up, slowly and with difficulty. They tumble backwards onto the solid surface, Harry landing on top of Malfoy. He sobs out in relief, overwhelmed and confused. Harry clings onto Malfoy, feeling his solid, firm body beneath him. He’s alive. Malfoy saved him. He’s alive.

He sobs again, clinging to Malfoy, who holds onto him just as tightly, whispering, “I’ve got you. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Harry’s sobbing fades to hiccupping breathes, before he calms down enough to pull away slightly, sitting up and wipe his red, puffy eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m such a mess. I always seem to be crying around you.”

Malfoy shakes his head, his fingers patting over Harry’s hair and face. “It’s okay to be a mess. I am. You are. And it’s okay.” He hesitates. “Harry, I have to ask. Why did you do it? I thought you were getting better… I thought you’ve been happier recently.”

Harry closes his eyes as more, silent tears seep out of the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I… sometimes there are side effects, like the fits, the scar bleeding. Sometimes, I lose control of myself. I have blackouts and I do things that I wouldn’t usually do.”

Malfoy holds onto him tighter. “Like trying to throw yourself off the astronomy tower.”

Harry lets out an abrupt, humorless laugh. “Like trying to throw myself off the astronomy tower.”

Malfoy curls his hand around the back of Harry’s neck. “ _Never_ do that to me again,” he says firmly, before lunging forward and pressing his lips against Harry’s. Harry gasps against Malfoy’s soft, warm lips. Malfoy takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside Harry’s mouth. Harry reaches up, burying his fingers in Malfoy’s hair. They press against each other, their mouths moving frantically against each other’s.

“Draco,” Harry whimpers, moving closer to Malfoy, swinging himself into his lap. Malfoy’s lips tear from Harry’s mouth and make their way down his neck, sucking at the flesh. Harry moans, tossing his head back to grant Malfoy more access and closes his eyes. “Draco,” he gasps again.

Malfoy pulls back, the kiss ending just as abruptly as it began. The boys stare at each other with wide eyes, both flushed and breathing heavily.

“Harry,” Malfoy breathes out, his fingers grazing over Harry’s cheek in wonder. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Harry’s elation dims. Malfoy doesn’t like him? Harry looks down, swallowing hard, before he starts to move off Malfoy’s lap, but Malfoy grips his hips and holds him in place.

“No. I didn’t mean… I’ve never liked a guy before, Potter. But I can’t stop thinking about you. And not in a friend’s sort of way.”

Harry slowly looks back up to meet Malfoy’s eyes, his expression hopeful. Malfoy scans his face for a moment, before leaning back in and pressing a soft, innocent kiss to Harry’s parted lips. “Harry, I don’t know how to do this. But I want to try.”

Harry gasps lightly, before a wide, uncontrollable grin spreads across his face. He lunges forward and presses his lips back on Malfoy’s, snogging him enthusiastically. Malfoy laughs against his lips. “Desperate much?” Malfoy teases, peppering light, persistent kisses back on Harry’s mouth. Harry blushes, burying his face in Malfoy’s neck and closing his eyes.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Harry whispers, slipping his hand into Malfoy’s.

Malfoy shifts slightly, moving his arms around Harry in a more comfortable embrace. “Oh?”

Harry giggles. “Guess how long. I dare you too.”

Malfoy pauses, appearing to genuinely think about it. “Since Christmas at the Manor?”

Harry snorts. “Guess again.”

“When you started sitting with me at lunch?”

“Nope.”

  
“When I read _Pride and Prejudice_ to you?”

“Merlin, no. Although that was brilliant.”

“Never Have I Ever? The Secret Sharer game?”

“Not even close, Malfoy.”

“Salazar, I don’t know! It can’t have been before this year. We hated each other until after the war. How about when we were rebuilding Hogwarts over the summer? Although, Potter, we never spoke then so I highly doubt you could have somehow fallen for – “

“Third year,” Harry interrupts, lifting his face from Malfoy’s neck so that he can look into his eyes. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since third year. The first day of third year, to be specific.”

Malfoy gawks at him. “What?”

Harry blushes, embarrassed. “I’ve liked you since third year. When we actually started talking this year…. You have no idea how much it meant to me – still means to me – that we became friends’. And this… I never once imagined you could like me back. Not until that kiss before Christmas. And even then I wasn’t sure what that meant.”

Malfoy still looks dazed. “You’ve wanted to kiss me since _third year?”_

Harry laughs lightly, cupping Malfoy’s cheek. “Yes, Draco. And now that I have, don’t think that you’ll ever get me to stop. You’re stuck with me now, ferret.”

Malfoy shoves him off his lap, glowering. Harry just laughs.

Harry stares at the fireplace one evening whilst lounging on the common room sofa. Ron sits on another chair. He tries to listen as Ron prattles on and on about Merlin knows what. A small smile spreads across his face as he zones out, his memories of early this morning coming back to him in a rush. After the kiss, they had quickly headed back to the common room and split up to go about the day. He’s barely seen Malfoy since, other than at lunch and in a couple classes, although they were unable to speak during them. Harry burrows further down onto the couch, beaming uncontrollably. He can’t believe that Malfoy kissed him this morning. The fact that Draco Malfoy, his secret crush for years, kissed him, is so unimaginable that he’d be almost positive he dreamt the entire thing up if it wasn’t for the small smiles Malfoy has been tossing him all day, accompanied by blushes.

“Harry!”

Harry jumps, sitting up straight on the couch as he looks back over at Ron. Ron is staring at him, face red. Harry swallows, wincing. “Sorry, Ron. What were you saying?”  
Ron sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Are you all right, mate? You’ve been acting weird all day?”

Harry flushes, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, Ron, I’m all right. Just had a lot on my mind.”

Ron nods. “Well, if you need to talk, ‘Mione and I are here for you.”

Harry instantly feels guilt about not listening to Ron talk. “So, what were you saying?” he prods.

Ron’s eyes light up. “’I love Hermione.”

Harry grins. “I know, mate. We all do.”

Ron just beams at him. “I want to marry her, Harry. One day.”

Harry chuckles softly. “I’m happy for you, Ron. I truly am.” He’s about to say more when he spots a familiar snake at the bottom of the stairs, watching him. Harry smirks at Malfoy, who turns and slithers back up the stairs. Harry watches him go, before looking back at Ron. He’s about to blurt out some lame excuse so that he can sneak off to be with Malfoy, but the universe is on his side.

The door to the common room opens and Hermione steps inside. She beams when she sees them both. She slips into the seat beside Ron, pressing a quick kiss on Ron’s lips. She turns to Harry and starts on a long rant about the Charms test they took this afternoon, and how, if Ron and Harry actually studied, they’d find it as easy as she did. Harry excuses himself hurriedly, ignoring Ron’s betrayed glance as Harry leaves him to face Hermione’s wrath alone.

Harry checks the corridor is empty, before slipping inside Malfoy’s room. He grins at Malfoy, who is lounging on his bed, once again in human form. Harry steps towards him, nervous. Then, gathering courage, he climbs onto the bed and crawls towards Malfoy, until he is hovering over the Slytherin boy.

“Hey,” he whispers, before leaning down and pressing his lips against Malfoy’s pliant ones. Malfoy’s hands reach up to wind into Harry’s shirt, pulling him flush against the other boy’s body. Harry moans slightly, opening his mouth willingly. Malfoy kisses him leisurely for a few moments, before rolling them over so that Harry is trapped beneath him. Malfoy slots himself between Harry’s legs, his nimble fingers slowly unbuttoning the buttons of Harry’s school shirt. Harry gasps lightly, reaching up to copy Malfoy’s movement, slowly working Malfoy’s shirt open. Once both their shirts are open, they pull apart, taking a moment to simply look at each other. Harry’s eyes scan Malfoy’s, taking in his flushed face and bright eyes. He lowers his gaze to Malfoy’s long throat, then to his smooth chest. He sucks in a breath when he notices the faded scars that lie there. Malfoy reaches out and takes Harry’s hand in his, placing it over the scars.

There are no words between them, there is no need. Harry lets his fingers graze over the old wound on Malfoy’s chest, before reaching up and pressing a soft kiss, right over Malfoy’s heart. Malfoy shudders. Harry peppers light kisses all along Malfoy’s chest and up to his shoulder, before he loops his arms around Malfoy’s neck and pulls him down for another bruising kiss. After a while longer, Harry pulls back and pants out, “Maybe we should slow down.”

He’s an 18 year old virgin for goodness sake. He needs time. Just a little bit more time.

Malfoy grins wickedly. “You’re right, Potter, no sex until tomorrow.”

Harry giggles happily when Malfoy’s fingers tighten at his side and the Slytherin buries his face in Harry’s neck. They both pant out small, breathy laughs, until Harry tugs on Malfoy’s hair and kisses him again. They don’t have sex that night. But it is still perfect.

Harry flops into his seat at the Slytherin table one lunch a few days later and promptly buries his face in his arms on the table. The chatter around him stops, and he feels a tentative prod of fingers against his arm.

“Harry?”

Harry sighs and looks up at Draco, Pansy and Blaise – because the Slytherin’s had insisted that they should use first names because of their truce – his eyes red rimmed. Draco immediately looks concerned, but he refrains from touching Harry in a more intimate way. It isn’t that the boys are ashamed of their relationship. They aren’t. They’d discussed keeping their relationship hidden two nights ago, when they’d been cuddling on Harry’s bed, reading and kissing. Harry had pulled away, staring at Draco with wide eyes.

“Can we not tell anyone about us? Please.”

Draco had looked confused, then offended, then hurt. “It’s all right, Potter,” he’d sneered. “I understand. Don’t want the rest of the world to know that their precious savior is shagging it up with a former Death Eater.”

Harry had instantly reached out to grasp Draco’s hand in his, his eyes soft as he whispered, “I am not ashamed of you, Draco. Our relationship is none of the worlds business. But the press will take it and mold it into something wrong and ugly. This isn’t wrong or ugly, Draco. It’s beautiful. Can’t we just have this for a while before we have to deal with the hatred from the rest of the universe?”

Draco hadn’t said anything after that. But he’d snogged Harry for hours.

Harry sighs, looking away from Draco and towards the Gryffindor table. Stood behind Ron and Hermione is Fred, peering over their shoulders and laughing at their fumbling romance. Harry feels himself break a little more. Fred has been hanging around all morning, and no matter what Harry says, the latter doesn’t seem able to vanish, like the other dead people Harry has encountered have. Seeing one of his dead friend’s walking around all morning has taken its toll on Harry’s mental state. He sniffs, blinking back a slow trickling tear.

“Harry?” Draco says again.

Harry pulls his eyes from Fred and smiles weakly at his boyfriend. “I’m fine. Just thinking, is all.”

He turns to Pansy. “So, made a move on your mystery crush yet?”

Pansy smirks. “Oh yes. We’ve been together for a while now.”

Blaise raises an eyebrow at her. “You have? My, my, our dear Pansy has grown up.”

Pansy snorts, leaning closer to whisper conspiringly. “Puck Gwydion and I have been meeting up secretly since our first snog.”

Draco and Harry shoot each other a look, both clearly thinking of the time Professor Gwydion made a move on Harry. Blaise snorts, laughing hysterically. “You and your teacher. Who would have guessed.”

Pansy shoves him. Then she turns to Harry. “Harry, darling, are you interested in anyone at the moment? You haven’t dated since Ginny Weasley. I could set you up with someone?

Perhaps- “

“No!” Harry interjects. “No. I’m fine, really. No need.”

Pansy pouts. “It would have been so much fun.”

Harry coughs, pressing his thigh against Draco’s. “How about Blaise? Set him up with someone.”  
Pansy sighs, resting her head against Blaise’s shoulder. “This one is crushing on a totally unavailable person. He won’t say who, though.”

Harry sneaks a glance at Draco, who is studiously eating his food and avoiding Harry’s gaze. He looks away, his gaze landing on the Gryffindor table. He sighs in relief. Fred is gone.

He and Draco quickly excuse themselves and walk together to Draco’s art room. Once inside, Harry wanders over to Draco’s desk and sits on it, swinging his legs. He smiles at Draco.

“Hey.”  
“Hey.”  
Harry gestures for Draco to come join him with one hand, patting the space on the desk beside him with the other. Draco rolls his eyes, but walks over and hops onto the table beside Harry. Harry instantly rests his head on Draco’s shoulder. They sit like that for a while, taking in each other’s presence. Harry grins to himself.

“What?” Malfoy whispers, his arm wrapping around Harry’s shoulders and his fingers caressing Harry’s arm. Harry closes his eyes. “I’m happy.”

Draco chuckles lightly. “You’re such a sap.” He pauses. “I’m happy too.”

Harry sits up straight, tilting to face Draco so that he can press his lips against the other boys. They kiss for a few moments, before Harry pulls back. He stares into Draco’s eyes, before saying, “There is something I have to tell you. The thing is, I sort of, well, I…” He breathes out. “I’m- I- in love,” he finishes.

Draco raises an eyebrow. “English, Harry.”

Harry laughs breathlessly. “I’m in love. With you.”

Draco’s eyes widen, before a huge smile blossoms across his face. “You’re in love with me?”  
Harry huffs. “Yes, Malfoy, I’m in love with you. Shut up!” He exclaims when Draco starts laughing.

Draco leans closer, pressing his face into Harry’s neck, causing him to shiver. “The great Harry Potter, in love with Draco Malfoy, ex Death Eater.”

Harry groans, embarrassment flooding him. “Sod off, Malfoy.”

Draco leans closer, his eyes sparkling. “I may be a little bit in love with you too, Harry.”

Harry smiles then, feeling hopeful and relieved. “Only a little bit?”

Draco pulls back, stares at him for a moment, before pecking Harrys lips once. Twice. “Maybe a bit more than a little bit.”

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever smiled so widely before.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is going to be the last update for the next couple weeks. I am moving overseas and am going on a holiday detour before hand. I don't know if I will have wifi during this holiday. If I do, I will try to update, but otherwise I will only be able to post the next chapter in two weeks time. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for all the support so far. xx

**Chapter Twelve**

_So honey, now_  
Take me into your loving arms  
Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars  
Place your head on my beating heart  
I'm thinking out loud  
And baby we found love right where we are

****

  * Thinking Out Loud, Ed Sheeran



****

**Draco**

****

Draco slips into Harry’s bedroom early one morning, quietly closing the door behind him. He walks over to the side of the bed and smiles softly as he looks down on Harry’s sleeping face. His boyfriend is snuggled up peacefully, his messy mop of hair covering the pillow. His face is so lax, completely void of the usual worry that cover his face. Draco feels guilty, and almost turns to leave when Harry blinks slowly. Harry smiles sleepily when he sees Draco and rolls over, yawning slightly. He lifts the covers and Draco slips under them, curling into Harry. Harry drapes his arms over Draco and presses a tired kiss to his shoulder.

“Hey, love,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

Draco’s heart swells with love. Ever since he and Harry started dating a few weeks ago, his feelings for Harry have increased to a never ending burning swell of love and desire. He has never felt so much emotion for a single being before.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Draco whispers back.

Harry sighs softly. “What is it?”

Draco is once again amazed by Harry’s ability to read his emotions. “I just got a letter off my mother. She’s sick. She’s been admitted to St. Mungos. The Healers don’t know what’s wrong with her yet.”

Harry props himself up on an elbow and looks down at Draco. He gently caresses Draco’s face with his fingers. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out, yeah? Want to ask McGonagall if we can go visit her?”

Draco sighs in relief. “Yes please. I’d feel better if I saw her.”

Harry smiles, lying back down. Draco slips his fingers into Harry’s hair, playing with it gently. Harry lets out a soft, appreciative sigh. Slowly, they both drift back off to sleep.

A few hours later, Draco finds himself alone with Pansy in her bedroom, listening to her prattle on and on about Professor Gwydion. Draco nods, pretending to listen whilst he sketches another drawing of Harry. His pencil dances across the page in graceful arcs, Harry’s eyes slowly coming to life on the paper. He bites his lip as he sketches, focused. It takes him a few minutes to realize that Pansy is no longer talking to him and is, in fact, sitting behind him, eyeing the drawing. He hurriedly closes the book, but the damage is done.

“You’re in love with Harry, aren’t you?” She asks quietly.

Draco scoffs. “Me? In love with Potter? Are you mad? Just because Harry and I have become friends of a sort, doesn’t mean that I am magically in love with the bloke. He’s a bloke, Pansy. When have I ever been into blokes.”

“Never,” she replies instantly. “But your rules have never applied to Harry Potter. He’s always been the exception for you.” She pauses. “Does he know how you feel?” 

Draco stares at Pansy, sighing in defeat as he realizes that there is no point hiding anything from her. “Harry and I… we’re actually dating. In secret. For now.”

Pansy gawks for a moment, before squealing. “You and Potter are dating?”

“Shh,” Draco hisses. “It’s a secret.”

Pansy scowls. “Potter too much of a wimp to admit to dating you, darling?”

Draco glowers. “No! He isn’t! He just… wants us to have some time to ourselves, before we have to deal with the press.” He sighs dreamily. “He said he’s liked me since third year… he told me he’s in love with me, Pans.”

She grins at him, reaching out to grip his hand in hers. “I’m happy for you, Draco. I really am. You deserve to be happy.”

Draco huffs out a breathy laugh, smiling to himself. “Yeah. Harry and I both do.”

There is a knock on the door, before it opens and Blaise steps inside. He raises an eyebrow at them sitting on the bed, hands clasped. “Everything okay?”

Draco and Pansy share a smile. “Yeah. Everything’s great.”

Blaise looks dubious, but he nods and says, “Potter, Granger and Weasley are out with Lovegood and girl Weasley. The other 8thyears are in Hogsmead. Looks like we have the 8thyear common room to ourselves.”

Draco smirks. “I think I have some Firewhisky in my trunk.”

Pansy grins. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go and get it!”

**Harry**

Harry finds himself sat beside the lake with Ginny, Luna, Ron and Hermione. The cool February air is still, quiet. The water looks like glass, no movement visible. Harry sighs softly. He’s missed this. Hogwarts. Even during the first term, it never really felt like he was back. Not properly. Sometimes, he still feels like he is living in another time, during the war. Everyone else may be growing, recovering, but he still carries the burden. He still has Voldemort in his head.

_Nice to know you’re thinking about me._

Harry glowers to himself. Fuck off.

_Come on, Potter, don’t be like that._

You tried to kill me, Harry thinks angrily. You tried to toss me off the astronomy tower.

_Let bygones be bygones, Potter._

“Harry!”  
He blinks, looking over at Ginny, who had been talking. She is clearly waiting for an answer from him. “Sorry, Gin. I zoned out. What was that?”

“Must be the Wrackspurts,” Luna says dreamily, staring intently at Harry’s ear.

Ron coughs. “It must be.”

“Ginny was just saying,” Hermione interrupts, shooting Ron a look, “that she has a try out for the Holyhead Harpies all-female Quidditch team next month.”

Harry gasps. “Gin, that’s brilliant! Are you going out for Chaser?”

Ginny flushes with pride. “Yeah. I got a message by owl this morning. The only problem is the try outs are at the same time as our Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match here at school.”

Harry frowns. “Someone else will just have to play Seeker then. You have to try out for the Holyhead Harpies.”

Ginny nods. “I know. But there is no one on the team who can play Seeker. I’ve already asked permission from Madam Hooch. She says you can play for me.”

Harry shakes his head instantly. “Oh no. I stopped playing Quidditch ages ago. I haven’t played since 6thyear.”

Ginny places a hand on his shoulder. “And don’t you miss it? Harry, come on. You love Quidditch. You love playing Seeker. Please?”

Harry chews his lip. “Who’s on the team again?” He’s barley watched any of the matches this year. None of the 8thyears have been that invested in school life this year.

“Demelza Robins still plays Chaser. Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote are still our Beaters. Our Keeper is only good at playing Keeper, he sucks at anything else. And our other Chasers are rubbish compared to previous years. Harry, the team needs you.”

Harry sighs, a flicker of excitement staring to blossom in his chest. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Ginny squeals. “Thank you!”

“Do you need help getting rid of the Wrackspurts?” Luna asks.

**Draco**

The next day Harry and Draco use Headmistress McGonagall’s Floo to travel to St Mungos to visit Narcissa. When they arrive, Healer Alfalfa greets them, taking them straight through to Narcissa’s private wing. She pauses outside the door, turning to face the boys.

“We don’t know what is wrong with her yet. We are still running tests. She is drifting in and out of consciousness, so we’ll keep this visit brief so as not to wear her out. Okay?”  
They both nod. Healer Alfalfa opens the door and lets them step inside. She closes the door behind them, leaving them alone with Narcissa.

Harry stays by the door whilst Draco walks over to his mother’s side, sitting down in the chair beside the bed. Draco leans out and takes his mother’s hand in his. He squeezes it lightly. “Mother?”

Narcissa doesn’t move, her eyes staying shut, her body limp. He looks over his shoulder at Harry, who walks over to him and places his hand lightly on Draco’s shoulder. “Try again.”

Draco swallows, nodding. “Mother?” he prods. “Mother?”

Narcissa’s hand twitches slightly, her fingers slipping between Draco’s. Her eyes start to flutter, her lashes blinking apart. Slowly, her eyes open up and her expression becomes more focused. Her gaze flickers to Draco, who smiles gently at her. “Hello, mother.”

Narcissa croaks out, “Draco? My darling?”

Draco’s hand tightens on hers. “I’m here, mother. I’m right here. So is Harry.”

Her gaze turns to just behind Draco, where Harry is standing. She offers a weary smile. “What are you boys doing here?”

Draco swallows. “You’re sick, mother. I had to come and visit you.”

Narcissa laughs lightly – forcefully. “No need, darling. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

Draco looks helplessly at Harry. Harry steps forward. “Draco needed to see you. Now that he has, I’m sure his mind will be at ease.”

Draco nods. “I just needed to know that you are all right.”

She squeezes his hand. “I am, sweetheart.”

Harry coughs. “I’m going to go find something to drink. Draco, sweetheart, I’ll be back later, yeah?”

Draco smiles at him. “Okay, love.” He reaches out and tugs Harry down to his level, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. “Love you.”

Harry beams. “Love you, too. I’ll see you later, Narcissa.”

Harry quickly leaves the room. Draco turns back to his mother, who is staring at him with wide eyes. Draco bites his lip. “I suppose now would be a good time to tell you that Harry and I have been secretly dating for a while?”

Narcissa stares at him for a moment, before clearing her throat and saying, in a hoarse voice, “Does he make you happy?”

Draco grins. Does Harry make him happy? Yes, he does. When Draco is with him, all his problems fade away. It is just him and the love of his life. When they curl up together on the sofa or in bed, reading, kissing, touching, it sends a euphoria through his body unlike any he has felt before. Flying with Harry in the night, stargazing, simply _being –_ yes, Harry makes him happy. “Yes.”

Narcissa smiles. “Then I’m happy. You boys are good for each other.”

Draco leans forward and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, mother. I love you.”

**Harry**

Harry wanders through the hospital mindlessly, sipping at a cup of coffee. It tastes revolting, but he needs the caffeine. As he is wandering, a small child appears in front of him, along with the usual chilly feeling that accompanies the dead. He swallows.

The child appears to be around 12 or 13 years old, with bright blue eyes and curly blonde hair. She smiles at Harry when she sees him.

“Harry Potter?”

He nods once, slowly. He glances around to make sure he’s alone, before whispering, “I can’t help you. I can’t control who lives and who dies.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I want. Can you visit my sister? Please. She loves you.”

Harry eyes the dead girl cautiously. “Where is she?”

“Follow me.”

The blonde leads Harry through the corridors, before stopping outside a closed door. Harry reads the sign. The Children’s Ward. “Her name’s Martha,” the girl says, smiling sadly at him, before fading from view.

He pauses outside for a moment, before stepping inside. There is a row of beds running up the side of one wall. The walls in this ward and decorate in bright colours and moving patterns, much like the moving images on the 8thyear bedroom doors. At the far end of the room there is a play corner, filled with toys and books. There are 5 children playing there, as well as one Healer and a few other adults he believes to be concerned parents. He stands in the doorway for a moment, watching them. It’s moments like this that make him think his sacrifice is worth it. Children – happy and alive and free from the clutches of Lord Voldemort. So what if he has to suffer, trapped inside a body with the psychopath? The sight before him makes it all worth it.

One of the children looks up and spots Harry, her jaw going slack as she stares. “Mama! It’s Harry Potter!”

The other children and adults turn around to look and gasp lightly when they see him. He swallows, before placing a large smile on his face. “Hi there. Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

One of the mothers’ runs towards him and grabs him into a hug. “Oh, Mr Potter,” she cries. “Thank you. Thank you.”

He pats her back awkwardly and hugs her back. He pulls away after a few moments and says, “You don’t need to thank me.”

The woman looks as though she is about to push it, but one of the little boys walks over to him and pulls on his school robes. Harry looks down at the child, who looks around 8 years old. The boy blinks up at him with wide, green eyes, so similar to Harry’s own. “Are you really Harry Potter? Did you really kill You-Know-Who?”

Harry glances up from the boy, looking around the room to find everyone’s eyes on him. He takes the boy’s hand in his own and walks back to the play mat, sitting down before the children. “Yes, I really am Harry Potter. And yes, Voldemort is gone. I made sure of that.”

One of the girls cocks her head to the side, frowning. “Why aren’t you scared to say his name?”

Harry smiles at her. “Fear controls people. If you want to win, if you want to have control of your own life and not be ruled by fear, then you have to face the things that scare you. Voldemort’s name made people scared. This gave him power – still gives him power, even though he is gone. Saying his name takes away that power. It is the reason I could beat him. I faced my fear.”

Another of the children crawls towards him and sits on her kneels, staring at him with large blue eyes. “How did you stop him? When you were little and now?”

“Martha!” one of the older witch’s scolds. “You know how Mr Potter defeated,” she looks at Harry, “Voldemort. I told you about it when it was in the paper.”

The little girl cowers slightly, but she says, “I want to hear from Mr Potter.”

Harry shakes his head, smiling, “It’s okay,” he tells Martha’s mother. “I’ll tell them.” He breathes out. “Voldemort split his soul into 6 objects. An old diary, a ring, a locket, a cup, a diadem and his snake, Nagini. Voldemort couldn’t die unless all these things were destroyed first. So last year, my two best friends and I hunted down these objects and destroyed them.”

“How?” one of the boys asks.

Harry smiles. “Basilisk venom. On a sword. As well as Fiendfyre. Anyways, once we found all these things, I went out to face Voldemort. He tried to kill me, but I used Expelliarmus, and his own spell rebounded.”

“What about when you were a baby?”

His face drops at that question and the Healer, seeing this, gently tells the children not to ask questions about the night Harry’s parents died. The children look chaste, so Harry quickly starts to talk some more. “Are you all wanting to go to Hogwarts when you’re older?” he asks.

Martha beams. “Yes! I want to be in Gryffindor, like you!”

Harry laughs lightly. “Gryffindor would be honoured to have you. But remember, all the houses at Hogwarts are amazing. Some of my best friends’ are in Slytherin. And I know many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that are just as brave as the Gryffindor’s.”

The green eyed boy pipes up with, “I want to go to Hogwarts, but my dad wants me to go to Durmstrang.”

Harry is about to reply when he spots Draco enter the ward and stand by the door, watching him. Harry grins and stands up, about to walk over to his boyfriend when one of the children gasps and says, “Is that Draco Malfoy? The Death Eater?”

Harry watches at Draco seems to cave in on himself, shying away from the prying eyes. His face looks pale and drawn, and Harry is instantly worried about Narcissa and angered that a child is making Draco feel like he isn’t supposed to be here. Harry turns to the group. “Draco Malfoy saved my life. He helped me defeat Voldemort. Draco is one of the bravest men I have ever known. And he’s my friend.” Harry gets up then and walks over to Draco. He places a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Hey. How’s your mum?”

Draco sighs wearily. “She’s sleeping now. Healer Alfalfa says she’ll let me know if there is any change and if they figure out what’s wrong with her.”

Harry squeezes Draco’s shoulder, then drops his hand. “The Healer’s will figure it out. She’ll be okay.”

Draco nods, his lips pressed together. “Headmistress McGonagall wants us back at Hogwarts now.”

Harry nods. “Okay, let’s go.” He glances back at the group. “It was nice meeting all of you.”

The children grin. “Bye, Mr Potter!”

The green eyed boy runs over to them and wraps himself around Harry. “Bye, Harry.” He peeks out from Harry’s leg. “Bye, Draco.” He lets go of Harry’s leg and runs back to his parents. Draco and Harry step out the room. They walk down the corridor and as soon as Harry spots an abandoned alcove, he pulls Draco into it and presses his lips against the other boys. Draco gasps in surprise but kisses Harry back enthusiastically. After he pulls away, Harry presses his forehead to Draco’s and closes his eyes. “I love you.”

Draco giggles. “I love you, too.”

“Ginny still loves you,” Ron says, tossing Harry another chocolate frog.

Harry, Ron and Hermione are lying about in Hermione’s room, studying for an upcoming Transfiguration test. The test is three weeks away. But Hermione being Hermione is determined that they study for it now. Hermione is sat at the desk, studiously going through her notes, whilst Harry and Ron lounge on the bed, eating candy and listening to Hermione’s lectures on occasion.

At Ron’s remark, Hermione tosses study cards onto the floor, and throws her hands in the air. “That’s it! I give up on you both! I’m trying to teach you and yet you are discussing Harry’s love life.”

Harry opens up the chocolate frog and chews it slowly. Ron shoots Harry a look, biting into a chocolate bar. Hermione huffs, swiveling on her chair to face her desk. She picks up a quill and starts to write furiously on her parchment. Ron sighs. He refocuses on Harry.

“I mean it, mate. Ginny still has a thing for you. She talks about you constantly. And she told mum that she is going to be patient, cause she’s sure you’ll come around.”

Harry groans. “No. I’m not going to ‘come around.’ I love Gin. But as a friend. Our romantic relationship is over.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron exclaims. “Are you seeing someone?”

“Ronald!” Hermione scolds. “I am trying to study. And you should be too.”

Ron stares at her, gob smacked. “This is important, Hermione. Harry has a secret girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a secret girlfriend!” He exclaims, glad that he is at least being honest with that statement.

Ron opens his mouth to say something else, but Harry beats him to it when he exclaims, “Merlin’s beard! You can’t do that!”

Hermione swivels in her chair. “What have you done, Ron?”

Ron is pale and staring at Harry with wide eyes. “Me? I haven’t done anything! Why don’t you ask Harry since he’s the one that yelled bloody murder!”

Harry gulps. “Sorry, it’s just… Sirius, why are you here?”

Sure enough, Harry’s godfather has appeared by the door, staring at Harry and his friends. Sirius smiles sadly at Harry and walks towards him, sitting down on the bed beside him. Harry reaches out, but his hand goes straight through Sirius’.

“Padfoot is here?” Hermione asks.

Harry looks over at her. “Mm? Oh, yeah. He’s sat on the bed beside me.” He looks back at Sirius. “What is it? What were you trying to tell me last time?”

Sirius shakes his head sadly. “The time is drawing nearer, Harry. He grows restless inside of you. Tell me, has Voldemort been more powerful than usual? Have your blackouts worsened?”

Harry nods.

“It is as I feared. Harry, you must make a choice. A horrible choice.”

“A choice? Are you talking about the same thing my father was?”

Sirius nods. “In order to prevent Voldemort’s return, you are going to have to make a decision. You have three plausible options, Harry. Go on as you are, and let Voldemort eventually gain full control. Or,” his voice wavers, his figure fading.

“No!” Harry calls. “No, you can’t go now! You haven’t finished telling me about the choices. Please, Sirius. Please.”

Sirius smiles sadly. “I love you, Harry. We all do.” Then he is gone.

Harry’s lip trembles and he holds back his tears. Now what? How what is he supposed to do? His family are clearly trying to tell him something, but what? What is this choice they keep mentioning? Harry wants to scream; he is so frustrated. Voldemort has barely made an appearance since the night he and Draco kissed. Harry should be relieved, but he isn’t. Voldemort can’t go from being that strong and powerful, to making only a couple snide comments. And Sirius’ evident belief that Voldemort’s power is growing only makes him more dubious over the mass murder’s calmness.

“Harry?” Hermione says quietly.

“You okay, mate?” Ron follows on.

Harry swallows, staring at the blanket, he forces himself to look up at his friends’. “He’s, uh, he’s gone.”

“Harry,” Hermione pushes gently, “what choices did he mean?”

Harry shakes his head. “I-I don’t know. He didn’t finish talking.” Harry stands. “I-I have to go.”

He hurriedly flees the room. Harry walks quickly down the corridor and out of the dorms. He checks to make sure he is alone, before he tugs his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag and covers himself up. He wanders the corridors, trying to shake off the unease he is feeling after his conversation with Sirius. He doesn’t want to think about choices, or Voldemort or his dead friends and family. He just wants to be free.

He is in the dungeons’, walking past the empty Potions classroom, when he sees Draco leaning against the wall, talking to a young looking Slytherin girl. He watches as the girl hugs Draco quickly, before skipping away. Draco stares after her, a fond smile on his face. Harry steps closer to Draco and grips his arm, dragging his startled boyfriend into the empty Potions classroom. He pulls off his cloak once the door is locked, and grins mischievously at Draco.

“Hey, love.”

Draco glares. “Potter, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

Harry shrugs. “Who was that girl?”

Draco nods slowly. “Aah. Jealous, are you?”

“No,” Harry glares. He pauses. “Maybe.”

Draco laughs. “That was no one special. Astoria Greengrass. My father used to want me to marry her. He probably still does.” He hurries on when he sees Harry’s face. “I don’t care what he wants. I love _you.”_

Harry beams and tugs Draco towards him by his tie, pressing their lips together. Draco moans lightly and grips Harry’s hair, pushing himself up against Harry’s body. Harry’s hands slip from Draco’s tie and down to the waist band of his trousers. He untucks Draco’s white shirt, slipping his hands under the material and onto Draco’s firm stomach. The feel of Draco’s skin beneath his fingers is electrifying. Draco’s lips fall from Harry’s and make their way down Harry’s neck, sucking at the flesh.

“You’ll leave a mark,” Harry pouts out, breathless.

Draco pulls away, breathing deeply as he stares into Harry’s eyes. “Good. I want everyone to know that you are taken. That they can’t lay a finger on you, because you are mine.”

Harry laughs lightly. “Merlin, I love you,” then he pulls Draco’s lips back to his. Draco moans in appreciation, trying to tug Harry’s jumper over his head, before undoing the buttons of Harry’s shirt. Harry opens his eyes for a moment, wanting to see Draco’s face, then he yelps in surprise and pushes Draco away hastily.

“Harry, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Draco asks.

Harry just stares over Draco’s shoulder, his eyes wide, his mouth open. He breathes deeply, frantically, before pressing his lips together, his brow furrowed.

Severus Snape glares at him from the doorway.

“Making out with my godson in my classroom, Potter,” Snape grinds out.

Harry gulps. Draco taps his shoulder. “Harry? Harry, what is it?”

Harry finally tears his gaze from Snape and meets his boyfriend’s gaze. Draco’s frowning at him, worry in his eyes. Harry leans forward, about to kiss him in reassurance, but Snape’s death stare stops him, and he pulls back hastily. Draco’s eyes sadden, hurt clear in them.

“Draco,” he whispers. “I have to do something. Why… why don’t you go and I’ll meet you in your art room in a few minutes, yeah?”

Draco’s face closes off and Harry desperately wants to comfort him, but Snape glowering at him prevents him from doing anything as Draco straightens up his clothes and stalks from the room. Harry stares after him, helpless.

“You will not lay a hand on my godson, do you hear me?” Snape demands.

Harry glares back. “I love him. You can’t make me break up with him. You’re dead.”

Snape stares at him with his usual, vacant expression. “Obviously.”

Harry shakes his head in disbelief. “Why are you here? You, of all people. What do you want?”

Snape purses his lips. “I want to know what happened that night at Hogwarts. I gave you my memories. We both know you are supposed to be dead. Yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” Harry replies. “And how is none of your business.”

With that, he starts to walk away, but Snape calls after him, “Don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to know why you’ve being so many dead people recently, Potter?”

Harry freezes. He had been wondering, actually. The girl at St Mungos, Fred, Sirius, Snape. He blows out a breath, before spinning around to face Snape again. “Fine,” he grinds out. “What do you know?”

“Death grows restless. He wants the Hallows destroyed. He wants you dead. He doesn’t want a master.”

Harry rolls his eyes, scoffing. “I’m not his master. I own the Deathly Hallows, sure, but Death doesn’t obey me. It doesn’t work that way!”

Snape leans closer. “Only because you don’t know how.” Then he vanishes.

Harry stares at the blank spot for a moment, before he hurriedly runs out of the Potions classroom. He runs through the school as fast as his feet can carry him, until he reaches Draco’s art room. He slowly steps inside. Draco is painting on a large canvas in the middle of the room. He freezes for a moment when Harry enters, before he continues brushing the black paint over the canvas, ignoring Harry completely. Harry walks over to him. He places his chin on Draco’s shoulder and wraps his arms around his waist.

“Draco,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. There…” he sighs, pressing his lips to Draco’s neck briefly, before he continues. “There was someone looking in the door. I didn’t want to worry you.”

Draco puts his brush down, closing his eyes as his head falls forward. “I don’t care if people know about us, Harry. It’s you that does.”

Harry steps back and gently turns Draco to face him. “I love you, Draco. And I promise, soon we will reveal our relationship. I just need some time, with just us, and no journalists like Rita Skeeter ruining it.”

Draco presses his forehead to Harry’s. “Love you.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Here is the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. 
> 
> xx

#  ****

**Chapter Thirteen**

_I'm gonna pick up the pieces_

_And build a Lego house_

_When things go wrong we can knock it down_

\- Lego House, Ed Sheeran 

**Harry**

Harry smiles to himself on as he gets dressed on Sunday evening, February the 14th. The school has been buzzing over the past week since Headmistress McGonagall announced that there would be a Valentine’s Day Ball this year. The dance is costume themed; princes and princesses. Harry, however, is going for the more peasant like appearance. A simple, gray long sleeved pull over top and loose jeans. To fit in at least partially with the theme, he has transfigured an old hair band into a golden crown. He steps in front of the mirror and places the crown on his head.

_Looking good, Potter._

Harry scowls. Sod off.

_I was just trying to compliment you._

Harry grinds his teeth together. Go away.

_Now, now, Harry, let me help you. Why don’t you take those hideous glasses off that pretty face of yours._

Because then I’ll be blind, Harry thinks angrily.

Voldemort tuts. _I know a spell that will allow you to see without your glasses for a short period of time._

Harry scoffs. As if I’d trust you.

_Just do it, Potter. What harm could it cause?_

Plenty, Harry thinks, but he takes off his glasses, lifts his wand and waits.

Voldemort mutters the spell and Harry takes a deep breath before repeating it. His blurry vision clears and he gasps lightly as he watches the world come into view.

_You’re welcome._

Harry glares.

After looking at himself in the mirror one last time, Harry tucks his wand away and steps out of his room.

He meets Ron and Hermione in the common room. Hermione is absolutely beautiful in her Beauty and the Beast style dress. Ron is matching her in the ‘human’ form of the Beast. It had been hilarious explaining the Disney movie to Ron. Harry smiles at them.

“You look beautiful, ‘Mione.” He eyes Ron’s outfit. “Where’d you get the outfit?”

Ron flushes with pride. “Hermione transfigured them for me.”

Hermione walks towards him and reaches up, straightening his crown. “There. You look perfect, Harry.”

Harry sighs, smiling. They walk to the hall together. When the reach it, Harry steps back to let Ron and Hermione enter together, as a couple. But Hermione shakes her head, smiling fondly. “Don’t be an idiot, Harry. Come with us.”

Harry frowns. “It’s Valentine’s Day, guys. Surely you want to go in as a couple.”

Hermione links her arm with his and drags him towards the door. “Ron and I will dance together. But you can walk in with us. You don’t have a date and we’re not going to abandon you.”

Harry flushes. He does have a boyfriend; they just don’t know it.

He and Draco had spoken about the ball. They’d agreed to act as friends, but that they wouldn’t reveal their romantic relationship just yet. Harry is relieved that the truth doesn’t have to come out just yet, but he’s also disappointed that he won’t be able to be with Draco, whilst everyone else is showing the world just how much they love the people they are with.

Harry shakes his head to clear his thoughts. He steps through the doorway with Ron and Hermione, smiling as he takes in the fairytale display before him. There are lights hanging everywhere, snowflakes trickling from the ceiling, towering, feral trees have appeared throughout the hall in a woodland display, flowers of every colour blossoming on them. It is absolutely breathtaking.

Harry spots Draco standing with Pansy beside the drinks table. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the Slytherin green waistcoat, black shirt and slacks Draco is wearing. Draco looks gorgeous, and Harry wants nothing more than to walk over to him and snog him. He can’t, he knows that, but he _can_ talk to him. Harry bids goodbye to Ron and Hermione and walks over to Draco. Draco smiles at him, a sparkle in his eyes as he looks Harry up and down. He leans in to give Harry a drink, whispering, “You look fucking hot,” in Harry’s ear.

Harry shivers, accepting the drink and sipping at it lightly. Pansy smiles at him. “Hey, Harry. Looks like we’re the lonely, singles tonight, huh? I can’t exactly be seen with my teacher,” she leans closer, “and you can’t be seen with each other.”

Harry pales, looking quickly at Draco, who shrugs anxiously and looks at the floor, mumbling, “She guessed it.”

Harry closes his eyes, breathes, then looks at Pansy. “You won’t say anything?”

Pansy leans in front of Draco so that she can whisper to him. “No, I won’t. But if you hurt him, I promise I will hex you into tiny pieces before frying you in boiling oil.”

Harry gulps. “Understood.”

She leans back, smiling smugly. She takes a swig of her drink, dumps her empty glass on the table and winks at Draco and Harry. “I’m off to find Blaise. He owes me a dance.” Then she walks off.

Harry looks at Draco, who still looks pale. “I’m sorry,” Draco mutters.

Harry subtly brushes his fingers against Draco’s and they share a smile. “It’s okay.” He pauses, looking out at the dance floor full of love struck couples. He spots Hermione and Ron snogging in a corner. He bites his lip, glancing over at the door a little to the right from him and Draco. “Wanna get out of here?”

Draco eyes him, then follows his gaze to the door. A small smirk pulls at Draco’s face. They walk out of the hall together, careful not to be spotted. Harry spots an alcove and he pulls Draco into it. Draco reaches up and gently caresses Harry’s cheek, then he leans in and kisses his nose lightly. Harry smiles. Draco’s lips move to Harry’s lips, both of their eyes slipping shut. They don’t touch anywhere else, just a gentle press of lips on lips, moving at a lazy, unrushed pace. Harry pulls back slightly, eyes opening to scan Draco’s face. Then they are reaching for each other, arms wrapping around the other and their kisses turning frantic. Harry moans into it, pushing himself as close to Draco as he can. Draco groans.

“H-Harry,” he stutters.

Harry bites his lip. “Can I-?”

Draco opens his eyes and they stare at each other for a long moment, before Draco takes Harry’s hand in his and slowly guides it to the button of his trousers.

They don’t return to the Valentine’s dance for a long time.

**Ron**

Ron likes to believe that he’s a smart man. He has long since learnt to agree with Hermione, regardless of his own opinion. He knows that if he wants to stay alive, he should either be directly beside Harry or as far away from him as possible. He knows what to say to stay in his mother’s good graces. He knows how to make his siblings smile again, despite everything. And he definitely knows when to turn a blind eye on things he shouldn’t have heard or seen.

So when he walks up to Harry’s bedroom door one afternoon and notices something different on the wooden frame, he pauses. On the oak, just below the Vanishing Wood, are two people. Two boys. Hugging. Kissing. Laughing. Ron stares at the engravings for a moment, confused. Harry’s door never changes. There is always the quidditch, the wood, the animagus forms of Harry’s family, as well as Harry’s stag patronus. But figures… people… that is a first.

The engravings slowly pull apart and Ron can see their faces. Ron chokes.

The two figures laugh, grinning at Ron as though it is totally normal for an engraving of Harry and Malfoy to be making out. The Malfoy figure presses a finger to his lips, giggling. Then he runs off, dancing between doors until he is back in the library on Malfoy’s door. The Harry figure and Ron stare at each other for a moment, before the engraving mimics Malfoy’s emotion, pressing a finger to his lips. _It’s a secret._ Then the Harry abruptly turns into a stag and disappears into the Vanishing Wood.

Ron stands there, frozen. Bloody hell. He’s about to leave when he hears a distinctive moan, followed by Harry’s voice calling out, “Draco!”

Ron pales even further.

“H-Harry,” Malfoy’s voice echoes.

Ron gasps. Oh, Merlin. Harry and… Malfoy? Ron turns away from the door and hurries away. You see, Ron likes to believe that he’s a clever person. Which is why he won’t mention this. To anyone. Ever. In fact, he muses, as he slips inside Hermione’s room and smiles at her, he might Obliviate himself. Just to be safe.

**Harry**

Inside Harry’s bedroom, Draco and Harry are lying in the bed, desperately trying not to laugh. Harry’s face is buried in the pillow, whilst Draco has his head piled on Harry’s stomach. They’d been lying comfortably in Harry’s bed, Harry watching as Draco lazily sketched a drawing, when the stag on Harry’s door had surfaced on the inside of the door and transformed into a miniature Harry. The figure had told them about Ron standing outside, and, in a moment of mischievousness, Harry had called out Draco’s name, nudging Draco to get him to play along. Once they were sure Ron had left, they’d burst out into hysterical laughter.

Draco finally lifts his head, beaming. “I wish I’d seen his face.”

Harry giggles. Draco stares at him for a moment, before he leans forward and presses a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. Harry sighs into it, smiling. Draco pulls back, climbing off the bed. He tugs on Harry’s hand. “Come on.”

Harry groans, but he lets Draco pull him to his feet. Draco slips his arms around Harry, holding him close. “I think,” Harry says, “that we should definitely see what Ron’s face looks like when he first sees us kissing.”

Draco beams. “Sweetheart, I couldn’t agree more.”

The next day they are in the library together when Harry spots Ron walk into the back aisle of books, away from the other students. He nudges Draco and nods his head in the direction Ron has gone. Draco grins wickedly and stands, gesturing for Harry to follow him. The two boys slip into the row of books next to the one Ron is in, and, after checking that the coast is clear and that Ron is able to see them, Draco leans in and kisses Harry. Harry falls into it, wrapping his arms around Draco and holding him close. He knows the exact moment Ron spots them between the books.

Ron squeals loudly and there is the sound of heavy books hitting the floor. Harry holds back his laughter continuing to kiss Draco, who is silently giggling against Harry’s lips. There is a choking sound and the shuffling of Ron gathering up his books, before he hurries away. Harry pulls back from Draco, glancing over Draco’s shoulder to follow Ron’s retreating form. Once Ron is out of ear shot, Harry bursts out laughing, resting his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as he does so.

“Merlin, I am an awful friend,” he chuckles.

Draco holds him tighter. “It was worth it. Did you hear that squeal he made?”

Harry giggles. “Yeah, yeah I did. That was hilarious.”

After that, they start to tease Ron as much as possible without giving away that they know that he knows. They touch each other more around Ron, make small remarks that seem friendly to others, but to which Ron can understand the double meaning. Harry has never seen his friends face turn so many shades of white, green and red before. Of course, the fun and games must always come to an end.

A week before the quidditch game, Voldemort decides to reemerge into Harry’s life. Harry is sat on the roof alone, watching the stars and trying to find all the constellations Draco has shown him over the past month or so since their first night star gazing, when his head flares with agony unlike any he has felt before. Before he can even blink, his world falls into darkness and pain.

The next thing he is aware of, is his body lying in a pool of some sort of sticky substance. He blinks, trying to remember where he is or what happened, but his mind comes up blank. There is a dull throbbing in his temple, and a sharp pain in his side. He sits up, looking around him slowly. He gasps. He’s in the dark forest, he’s sure of that, and beside him is a corpse of a unicorn. The creatures white coat is covered in red blood, which has soaked into the earth around it. Harry starts to tremble as he realizes what the substance he is lying in is.

He scrambles into a standing position, falling against a tree as the world spins. One hand reaches up to touch his head, trying to chase away the dizziness and pain. He looks back at the unicorn. It is covered in blood, so much so that Harry can’t even spot an injury. He feels sick looking at it. He tries to remember how he got here. Why he’s here. But he can’t remember anything past stargazing on the roof. He swallows hard.

“Tom?” he whispers. “Voldemort, what did you do?”

There is no answer. Harry starts to cry, wet, salty drops falling from his eyes. He knows without a doubt that he killed the magnificent creature before him, whilst completely possessed by Voldemort. He wants to scream, but he’s in the forest of death… it would be unwise to attract attention to himself. He starts to walk, unsure which way will lead him out of here, only that he needs to get as far away from the murder as possible. He stumbles through the dark trees, tripping over tree roots. He reaches for his wand, relieved when his fingers close around the familiar wand. He casts a quick Lumos, glancing around the now light forest. He can’t see or hear anything, other than the light breeze. He shivers.

Harry closes his eyes, thinking. He isn’t going to be able to find his way out of here, that’s for sure. He could send up an emergency beacon, like they used during the maze in the Tri wizard cup, but then anyone could see it and he can’t have people asking questions, or seeing the state he is in. He sniffs. “Expecto Patronum!”

His patronus appears before him and Harry sighs in relief. “Go find Draco. Get help.”

The stag bows slightly then vanishes through the trees. Harry watches it till it fades from his sight. He could have followed it out of the woods, he knows that, but he can barely walk, exhaustion weighing him down, and his head is throbbing. He sits down on the ground, leaning back against a tree trunk. A single tear falls from his eye. Voldemort did this – took Harry into the forbidden forest and murdered a unicorn, and Harry had no idea it was happening. What if Voldemort uses him to murder a person? What if this happens in front of people?

He closes his eyes, taking deep, calming breathes. He hums to himself to pass the time as he waits. It feels like hours later when he hears movement. He forces his eyes open and spots his patronus moving towards him, a figure behind it. He squints trying to see who it is, and only then does he realize that the world is blurry and his glasses are missing. How did he not notice that?

“Harry!” a panicked voice exclaims.

Harry almost cries in relief. “D-Draco? Is that you?”

A warm hand lands on one shoulder, another placing his glasses on his face. Draco’s worried face blurs into focus. Harry vaguely notices a couple cuts and bruises on Draco’s face.

“Harry!” Draco exclaims, his hands running over Harry’s face, over his body. “Merlin, you’re bleeding. What happened? Where does it hurt? I found your glasses on the edge of the forest. I’ve been worried sick. Are you hurt?”

Harry grips Draco’s hand. “It – it’s not mine. Please, just get me back to the school. Please.” He coughs. “What happened to you?’

Draco helps Harry to his feet, his face pale. “Doesn’t matter. I just ran into a few trees on the way here.” Once they are standing, Draco wraps his arms around Harry to keep him up. Harry sways into him, and it isn’t until Draco’s gentle fingers are wiping at his face that he realizes he’s crying. He leans into Draco’s touch, sniffing. “Please can we go back to the school?”

Draco nods. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

Harry nods, trembling. Draco still looks unsure, but he starts to walk, holding Harry tightly to him as they stumble through the forest. Harry doesn’t know how they get there, but the next thing he knows Draco is ushering him through the school corridors and into the 8thyear dorms. He helps Harry up the stairs and into the boys’ bathroom. Harry sits down on the toilet seat, whilst Draco locks the door, muttering a spell that Harry can’t hear. Then Draco is kneeling before him, reading out to take Harry’s hands in his. Harry looks up at him, still barely aware of the world around him. _Voldemort can control me. Voldemort can control me. Voldemort can control me._

“Harry?” Draco whispers. He opens his mouth, and Harry braces for the questions, but instead, Draco simply says, “Up you get. You need to shower.”

Harry stands, with Draco’s help, and they work together to remove Harry’s tattered pajamas. Draco takes Harry’s wand from him and places it on the counter. Once Harry is standing in the middle of the bathroom, naked and bloody, Draco walks over to the shower and turns on the tap. He waits for the water to heat up. Harry just stares at him, expression blank, heart racing. _Voldemort can control me. Voldemort can control me. Voldemort can control me._

“Harry?”

Harry shakes his head, clearing his thoughts, and makes his way over to the shower. He steps under the hot spray and sighs as the water starts to wash away the blood. He stares down at the floor, watching as red water swirls down the drain. A cloth appears in front of him and he takes it from Draco’s hand, lathering it in soap and wiping down his body. Behind him, he can hear Draco saying spells. He turns around and watches as Draco points his wand at Harry’s clothes and says, “Scourgify.” The clothes still look terrible. Draco glances over at Harry and says, “Sorry,” before pointing his wand again and saying, “Incendio!”

Harry’s clothes burst into flames. Once they have completely burnt, nothing but ash left, Draco waves his wand and it is as though they never existed. He looks back at Harry. “I’ll be right back. I’ll just go grab you some clothes.”

Harry nods. He watches Draco pick up his wand and leave the bathroom. Once he is alone, he finishes cleaning himself, before turning off the shower and wrapping himself in a soft towel. He dries himself off then waits patiently for Draco to return. When Draco reappears, holding clothes for Harry, Harry smiles at him weakly. Draco helps him dress into a plain white t-shirt, the Slytherin green jumper Mrs Weasley had made for Draco for Christmas and a pair of black pajama pants. Once he’s dressed, Harry walks over to the sink and rests his hands on it, sighing. He can’t lie to Draco about this. He has to tell him the truth. He closes his eyes as he breathes, trying to focus.

“You know about what happened with me and your mother in the forest,” Harry begins, opening his eyes as he turns to face Draco. Draco nods. “Well,” Harry continues, “just before your mum checked my pulse, I really was dead.”

Draco turns paler. “Like what you said, when we played the Secret Sharer game. Your worst injury was when you died.”

Harry nods. “Yeah.” Harry chuckles bitterly. “I lied when I told the press about the Horcruxes. There was the diary, the ring, the locket, the diadem, the snake, the cup and…” he turns away from Draco, looking back down into the basin. “And me. That night when he killed my parents, he accidently made me into a Horcrux. He didn’t know he’d done it until the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. Neither did I. I had suspected, but it was confirmed that night. When I found out, I did what I had to do. I let him kill me.”

“How’d you find out?” Draco asks, his voice cracking.

Harry refuses to look up and meet Draco’s gaze, scared of what he might see. “Snape. I was with him when he died. He gave me his tears, told me to look at his memories. I did. He and Dumbledore had a conversation, about how I had a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside of me. They talked about how the only way for Voldemort to die was for me to die.” He swallows. “When I died, I saw Dumbledore. He told me I had a choice: to come back or – or go on. For once in my life, I chose to be selfish. I wanted to live so badly. But of course, I knew I was a Horcrux. I had to die. Dumbledore gave me an option. He told me that there was another way.” Harry laughs bitterly. “A ritual, he said. One that would allow me to live. So I did it. Draco…” Harry gulps, finally looking up to meet Draco’s wide gaze. “I trapped Voldemort inside myself.”

Draco gasps audibly, his body rigid, unmoving. Harry drops his gaze again, his fingers tugging nervously at the hem of the jumper he’s wearing.

“He’s not always there, with me, I mean. He’s trapped inside my mind. It’s like he’s locked away in a sound proof room, but sometimes, he manages to break out and take control of my body. Sometimes he is the one in control. Like that time in Potions, when I had an attack. And in the greenhouse. And… he’s getting stronger. Tonight, I was stargazing on the roof when it happened. The next thing I know I was in the forest, covered in blood with a dead unicorn beside me. I have no idea what happened between the roof and that.”

Draco stares at him in horror. “Voldemort is living inside of you? He can control your body?”

Harry nods glumly. Draco breathes out. “Okay. Okay, we can fix this.”

“Fix it?” Harry snaps suddenly. “You think we can fix it? There is no fixing it! Voldemort is inside of me! The only choices we have is to keep on as is and let Voldemort eventually take over me or kill me and end both of us permanently. Either way, I end up dead, Draco! So the only way we can fix this is by deciding _how_ I die.”

Harry is vibrating with fear, anger and pent up emotions. His entire body is shaking, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Harry- “

“No!” Harry interrupts. “No. I need to tell you something else. Another secret. I’m the Master of Death. No, don’t look at me like that. I own the Deathly Hallows. The cloak I’ve always had, since it was my dad’s and was given to me my first year at Hogwarts. I didn’t know it was a Hallow until last year, when I first heard the Three Brothers story. The Elder wand, well, you know about that. It was Dumbledore’s, then yours, then mine. As for the Resurrection Stone, when Dumbledore died, he left me the snitch from my first match. I caught it with my mouth, so when I put my mouth to it, the words _I open at the close_ appeared. As I was going to my death, I realized what it meant. I had to accept that I was going to die. When I did, the snitch opened and the stone was inside. Afterwards, I was going to get rid of them, but I was worried as to what would happen if someone else got their hands on them. So I kept them. Problem is, I’ve been seeing dead people ever since.”

Draco gasps. “You can see dead people? Dead people that aren’t ghosts?”

Harry closes his eyes, trying to breathe as more tears fall and his emotions go haywire. “I’ve been seeing everyone who died during the battle. The other day, when we were kissing in the potions classroom, and I pulled away? Snape was there.”

Draco splutters and his horrified face almost makes Harry laugh. Almost. Instead, he cries harder. His body shakes violently and he collapses to his knees, unable to stand. He sobs, heart wrenching gasps falling from his parted lips. He wraps his arms around his stomach and he rocks on his knees, barely able to breathe. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” He repeats the mantra, the words becoming more panicked with every repetition. “Everyone is dead. Mum, dad, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Hedwig, Dobby. Cedric, _Merlin_ , even Bellatrix. But oh no, old Voldemort is still alive and strong and _I can’t do this anymore.”_

Draco falls to his knees before Harry, reaching out to touch Harry’s shoulder, but Harry flinches away. “No, no, no. I need to die. I deserve to die. I killed a unicorn tonight and I had no idea. What’s next? What if it happens during class? What if I hurt _you_? Or Ron? Or Hermione?” He’s choking on his tears now, unable to see clearly through his blurred vision. Draco tries again, reaching out to touch him. Harry lets him this time. Draco’s hands cup Harry’s cheeks, wiping the tears from his blotchy skin.

“Harry, no matter what, you are not going to die. Do you hear me? We’ll figure something out. I just got you. I’m not letting anyone take you from me.”

Harry keeps sobbing. _God,_ he thinks to himself. He can barely breathe anymore. Everything is crashing down on him and he can no longer hold himself up. The thought of Voldemort, of Death, of _seeing_ dead people, is suddenly all too much. He doesn’t know how much more he can take.

“Harry,” Draco whispers, his fingers gently caressing Harry’s cheeks. “Harry, love, you’re okay. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you, love. I’ve got you.”

Harry attempts a weak, pained smile, which Draco returns. “There,” Draco says, “is that beautiful smile that I love.”

Harry laughs painstakingly. He allows Draco to help him back to his feet. Then he is wrapped up in Draco’s arms and they are both crying. Harry’s hands fist the back of Draco’s shirt and he rests his head against Draco’s shoulder, crying into his neck. They hold onto each other, their tears falling and their bodies shaking with loud, harsh tears.

“Someone has to have heard all this,” Harry chokes out.

Draco pulls back slightly, pressing their foreheads together. “I cast a silencing charm when we first came inside.”

Harry smiles weakly. “Thanks.”

He presses his lips together and sniffs, before letting out a breath and pulling away. He nods slowly. “Okay. Okay. We’ll figure it out. Everything will be fine,” Harry says, almost to himself. “Everything will be okay.”

“There, there,” Draco murmurs. He presses a kiss to Harry’s forehead then pulls back. Draco keeps Harry’s hand firmly in his and Harry is grateful. He feels weak and foolish and he needs Draco more than ever.

“Come on,” Draco mutters, guiding Harry as they walk from the bathroom and to his bedroom.

Draco helps Harry into bed and then slides in behind him, holding Harry to his chest. Harry breathes him in, closing his eyes as he soaks up the feeling of being with Draco.

“I love you,” he whispers, needing to say it, desperate to hear the words returned.

“I love you, too, darling,” Draco replies, kissing Harry’s head.

Harry could cry in relief. Draco loves him. Draco has him. Draco will protect him.

Harry is so thankful. He is so done with being the strong one. He is so done with giving everything to protect everyone and help everyone. He has given everything he is and everything he has, but no more. He will not keep helping strangers. He will not keep being the good little savior that does everything for everyone. No.

It’s time he did what he needs for a change. It’s time he looked out for himself.

It’s time to save himself.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Here is the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. xxx

**Chapter Fourteen**

_I could look into your eyes until the sun comes up_   
_And we're wrapped in light, in life, in love_   
_Put your open lips on mine and slowly let them shut_   
_For they're designed to be together oh_   
_With your body next to mine our hearts will beat as one_   
_And we're set alight, we're afire love, love, love oh_

_**** _

  * Afire Love, Ed Sheeran



**Harry**

Monday morning dawns bright and early. Harry blinks into consciousness, startled to find himself alone. He hasn’t slept without Draco in what feels like forever. And ever since Harry’s break down on Saturday night, Draco has barely left Harry’s side.

He sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes wearily. “Draco?” he calls out softly.

There is no answer. Shrugging to himself, he gets out of bed and starts to dress for the school day ahead. He’s just smoothing out his robes when the door opens and Draco slips inside. Harry smiles contently as Draco steps behind him and wraps his arms around Harry from behind. Harry places his hands over Draco’s and leans back against him. He hums in content when Draco presses a kiss to his neck.

“Morning, love,” Draco murmurs.

“Morning,” Harry echoes.

He turns in Draco’s embrace and wraps his arms around Draco’s neck. Draco lets his hands slide to Harry’s hips and rest there.

“Where did you vanish too?” Harry asks.

Draco presses a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. “Pansy,” he says. “She claimed to be having a crisis.”

“And was she?” Harry prods, his fingers twirling the short strands of hair at the back of Draco’s neck.

Draco snorts. “Professor Gwydion wants to be in a serious relationship with her. Pansy just wants to keep shagging him.”

Harry shudders at the thought. Instead of replying, he presses a kiss to Draco’s lips – long and wet. Draco sighs against Harry’s mouth and tugs him closer to his chest.

“Love you,” Draco whimpers.

Harry just smiles.

Later that day, Harry finds himself alone with Ron in the library, of all places. Hermione is determined to make them study for the upcoming Transfiguration test. But half way through the study session she was called away to help Professor McGonagall with something or other.

Harry sneaks a glance at Ron, who is staring determinedly down at his text book, his ears and face flushed. Harry bites down in the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Say, Ron,” Harry starts, making a few notes on his parchment. “You know we were talking about my supposed secret girlfriend a bit ago?”

Ron makes a strangled noise, still not looking up. Harry leans across the table.

“I know that you know about Draco.”

Ron starts to choke violently and Harry quickly moves to the otherwise of the table so that he can pound Ron on the back.

When Ron finally stops choking, he looks at Harry. He’s glaring.

“You did it on purpose!” Ron accuses.

Harry can’t help but snicker. “Yeah. Sorry.” He isn’t sorry in the least and they both know it.

Ron swallows. “So… you and Malfoy?”

Harry blushes then as he smiles dreamily. “Yeah,” he sighs, beaming. “Yeah. I love him, Ron. And I know that we all had issues with him and that you and Hermione haven’t exactly befriended him, but it would mean everything to me if you would try to be okay with it.”

Ron slaps Harry’s shoulder. Harry hisses. “Ow!”

“That’s for thinking I wouldn’t be okay with it,” Ron retorts. “I might not have fallen head over heels for the git, but I know he isn’t the same idiot he once was. And even if he was, you’re my best mate. Of course I’m gonna support you.”

Harry beams. “Thanks, Ron.”

Ron shrugs, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “But no more kissing him in front of me, ye hear?” Ron pauses. Then, “Does Malfoy know that I know?”

Harry laughs. “Yeah.”

“Does Malfoy know that Ronald knows what?” Hermione asks, sitting down opposite them both. “And why aren’t you studying?”

“Does Draco know that Ron knows that Draco has a secret soft spot for Muggle literature,” Harry says quickly. He isn’t quite ready to talk to Hermione about his relationship with Draco. “And we were studying. I made notes and everything,” he tells her.

Hermione tuts and shakes her head, before burying herself back into a textbook. Harry is about to do the same, when he catches Pansy and Draco talking behind a row of books. Draco catches Harry’s eye and subtly nods towards the door. Harry nods back and starts to pack up his books.

“I’m going to study in my room. It’s quieter,” he says, watching as Draco winks and then exits the library.

Ron sees this and his face turns beetroot. Hermione barely looks up – she’s too absorbed in her studying.

Harry quickly leaves the library and hurries to his room. When he enters his room, Draco is lounging on Harry’s bed. He’s discarded his robes and his shirt is half unbuttoned. Harry’s breath catches in his throat.

“Are you going to stand and stare all day or come and join me?” Draco drawls.

Harry flushes and dumps his books on the floor before stumbling over to the bed. Draco rolls his eyes and sits up, helping Harry remove his robes and tie. Harry kicks off his shoes and then crawls onto the bed, hovering over Draco. Draco smiles and tugs Harry down to him, kissing him deeply.

Harry moans. Draco’s nimble fingers start to unbutton Harry’s shirt and Harry’s skin feels charged with electricity.

Since they’ve been dating, they have explored each other’s bodies and desires, but they haven’t gone all the way. Not yet. And something about this – about the desire and passion filling Harry up to the brim – makes him think that maybe today, _now,_ is the moment they finally will.

Now shirtless, Harry feels bare and exposed, his trousers being the only coverage left. Draco’s hands slowly caress up and down Harry’s chest and Harry shudders.

“You’re so beautiful, Harry,” Draco murmurs. “I always thought it, but now…” Draco stops talking, instead rolling them over so that he’s on top of Harry, and starts peppering light kisses down Harry’s chest and stomach. Harry’s fingers clench in Draco’s hair and he bites his lip, loving the feeling of _being loved._ Then Draco’s fingers undo Harry’s trousers and Harry is lost to the feeling of heat and warmth and arousal.

“Draco,” he manages to get out after a few minutes of sweet torture. “Please. I want to.”

Draco sits up, his mouth glistening and swollen. “What do you want, sweetheart?” Draco prods, his voice raspy.

Harry groans, embarrassed and more turned on than he’s ever been in his life. “I want _more.”_

Draco cups Harry’s face in his hands, softly caressing his cheek with his thumb. “Are you sure?”

There is no judgment in Draco’s eyes. There is no ‘we don’t have to’ or ‘finally’ or ‘no’ or ‘yes’. Just genuine question. Just the genuine need to know if Harry is sure.

“Yes,” Harry groans. As if there was ever any other answer.

Draco presses his forehead against Harry’s. “Okay,” he says, soft and gentle. “Okay.”

Then there are no more words. They don’t need them. The feeling of being together is enough. And they don’t need words to express the love they feel for each other. Because in that moment, when they cross the line and take the next step in their relationship, they finally become one. And there are no words for that.

****

Harry stares down at his transfiguration test, rereading the question for what feels like the thousandth time, and yet he still does not know the answer.

**_What are the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration?_ **

He sighs, his mind wandering again. It’s Friday, meaning that the Quidditch game is tomorrow. He hasn’t played quidditch since 6thyear, and yes, he has kept up with his flying – he and Draco go out at midnight at least twice a week. But an actual quidditch match… he hasn’t felt this excited about something in a long time. He can’t wait to take to the air tomorrow and to finally take on his role as Seeker again.

He sighs again, tapping his quill against the desk. He smiles softly, thinking back to Monday and how he and Draco had made love for the first time. The morning after, they’d talked about the ‘big reveal’ Harry had shared a few days before.

“We’ll figure it out,” Draco had whispered. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

They hadn’t mentioned it since.

“10 minutes left!” McGonagall calls out.

Harry jolts from his thoughts at the sound of the Headmistress’s voice. He shakes his head and refocuses, staring back down at his test.

**_What are the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration?_ **

Harry groans and bangs his head on the desk. He should have paid more attention to Hermione’s study sessions. He desperately tries to remember something, anything, but he can’t.

_Honestly, Potter, you are hopeless._

Harry nearly jumps out of his seat when he hears Voldemort’s voice mocking him. What do you want?

_The answer is food. It’s impossible to make food out of nothing._

Harry frowns. Are you… helping me?

Voldemort laughs. _Just write the answer, Potter._

Harry swallows, but does as Voldemort tells him. His quill dances across the page as Voldemort tells him the answers to several of the questions. It’s strange and he has no idea whether Voldemort is actually helping him or setting him up to fail. It’s the first time Tom Riddle has made an appearance since the night of the unicorn and the confessions.

“Time’s up. Please bring the scripts to me.”

Harry mentally thanks Voldemort – so strange – and packs up his things, sticking it in his bag. He stands and walks up to the front to hand in his test. He walks over to the door to wait for Ron and Hermione. As he’s waiting, Draco walks out the classroom. They smile at each other, and Draco subtly brushes his fingers against Harry’s. Harry stares down at the floor, positive that his face is bright red.

Ron and Hermione walk over to him. Draco slips out the classroom with one last smile in Harry’s direction. When Harry looks back at Ron and Hermione, Ron is scarlet and looking anywhere but at Harry. Harry snorts, but he covers it quickly, coughing. The three walk out of the classroom and meander down the corridors together, heading to the Great Hall for lunch.

“Well?” Hermione says. “How was it? Did you two manage to pass, at least?”

Harry shrugs, genuinely not sure as to how helpful Voldemort’s answers had been. Ron is as green as a slug, the queasy look on his face evident. Hermione tuts at them. “If you’d just study, then you could get good marks.”

Neither boy replies to that. They step into the hall and Harry says goodbye to Ron and Hermione so that he can head over to the Slytherin table to join Draco, Pansy and Blaise. However, Ron grips Hermione’s arm to stop her from moving and says, “Why don’t we join Harry today, ‘Mione?”

Harry and Hermione both turn to stare at him. Ron swallows. “Harry is our best mate and he’s made friends with the Slytherin’s, so we should at least try to as well, right?”

Hermione purses her lips, before nodding curtly. “You’re right, Ron. We should try.”

And that’s that. Harry nervously walks over to the Slytherin table with Ron and Hermione in tow. Harry slips into his usual seat beside Draco. Ron slides in next to him and Hermione sits beside Pansy.

“Hi,” Hermione says cheerfully, filling her plate.

Pansy raises an eyebrow. “Feeling outnumbered, Harry?”

Harry laughs. “Na. I think Ron and ‘Mione were feeling abandoned.”

Ron takes a large bite of his chicken leg and chews ferociously. Hermione pulls a face and kicks him under the table. Ron squawks and promptly starts to choke on his food. Harry, use to this by now, thumps Ron on the back and then forces a glass of Pumpkin juice down his throat. The Slytherin’s watch on in part horror part amusement as Ron’s face turns redder and redder, his eyes watering. Harry shoots them an apologetic glance as Ron spits the chicken back onto his plate.

Blaise snorts. “You should have brought your Griffindorks earlier, Harry. They make for good entertainment.”

Hermione fumes. “I am not a clown. I am not here to do tricks for your amusement.”

Blaise and Pansy look confused, and Draco leans in to Harry to whisper, “What’s a clown?”

Harry looks at him, his mouth parting in an ‘oh’. Purebloods, he thinks, shaking his head. “A clown is a creepy person who acts like an idiot and makes people laugh. And sometimes do magic tricks. It’s a muggle thing.”

“Muggles do magic?” Pansy asks, surprised.

“It’s not _real_ magic,” Hermione says, carefully cutting up her potatoes. “Just simple things they do that looks like magic, like card tricks and the like.”

The three Slytherin’s look confused. Ron, who is used to the talk of such things due to being friends with Harry and Hermione, looks smug. Pansy coughs delicately and turns to Hermione.

“How did you find the Transfiguration test? Personally, I thought it was rather easy.”

Hermione looks delighted and immediately jumps into a detailed conversation with Pansy about the test and study techniques. Blaise pouts and shoots an accusing glare at Harry.   
“Look what you’ve done!” He exclaims. “I’ve been abandoned by Pansy for Granger!” But he’s smiling slightly as he says this, so Harry knows that he isn’t really angry.

“Ready for the Quidditch match tomorrow, Harry?”

Harry looks up to find Ginny standing before him. Harry smiles at her. “Yeah, Gin. I’m ready. And you? Are you ready for tryouts?”

Ginny lets out a nervous breath, but nods. “Yeah. Mums coming to fetch me now. I’m nervous, but I think it’ll be okay.”

Harry smiles encouragingly. “You’ll do great, Gin.”

Harry, Hermione and Ron stand up quickly to hug Ginny goodbye and wish her good luck, before they sit back down with the Slytherin’s. Ron turns to Harry. “So are you really ready to play against Hufflepuff tomorrow? You haven’t played quidditch in ages.”

Harry beams. “I’m ready. I can’t wait, actually. I’ve missed playing.”

Ron laughs, stabbing his chicken with his knife. “Haven’t we all.”

Harry is sat on the bed in his room, face buried in his hands. He breathes in and out, long and deeply. He swallows, trying to calm down but he can’t. After lunch, he’d been on his way to Herbology when the panic hit him. He’s told Draco everything. _Everything._ Which means that someone else, someone alive, knows that Voldemort isn’t dead. The fear that sliced through Harry’s calm façade when he realized is still present and Harry once again takes a deep breath, trying to calm his raging nerves. He’d rushed straight to his bedroom, skipping class, and now, an hour later, he is still trembling with panic. Why did he confess everything? What was he thinking?

He looks up when the door opens, groaning mentally when he sees that it is Draco. Draco walks over to the bed and sits down beside him. He reaches out to put an arm around Harry’s shoulders, but Harry shuffles away, shrugging him off. Draco’s face expresses his hurt, but he doesn’t say anything, or try to touch Harry.

Harry gulps. “What do you want?”

Draco slides from the bed and to the floor, kneeling in front of Harry, still not touching him. “I’m worried. You were fine at lunch a bit ago, and now you look like shit. Did… did Voldemort do or say something?”

Harry laughs bitterly. “The only thing Voldemort has done is help me pass Transfiguration.”

Draco’s eyes widen slightly, but he presses on. “What’s wrong then?”

“You!” Harry explodes. “ _You_ are wrong. I shouldn’t have told you any of this. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved. We shouldn’t be involved. I mean, what was I thinking. You, Draco Malfoy, my rival. You hate me, so why the hell are you… dating me! This is such a fucking mess.”

“Hey,” Draco interjects. “You know I don’t hate you anymore. Things have changed. I love you, Harry. And I’m glad you told me about what’s going on because now I can help you.”

“You can’t help me!” Harry screams, standing up and pacing. “There is nothing anyone can do. I am going to die. There is no way out of this.”

“Harry- “ 

“No! I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. No one else is dying for me or getting caught up in a web of lies and deceit because of me. Stay away from me, Malfoy. Just stay the hell out of my life. It’s the only way you’ll ever be safe.”

With that, Harry grabs his cloak and slams out of the room. He tugs on his invisibility cloak and dashes through the hallways, wandering aimlessly. He finds himself outside the library and he steps inside, relieved to see that there aren’t too many students in the library. He walks through the rows of books until he finds a quiet corner. He sits down, leaning against the shelf, pulling his knees to his chest. He presses his lips together, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as he tries to fight against his threatening tears.

He wishes he hadn’t blown up at Draco, but he can’t handle anything happening to him because Harry shared information that Voldemort doesn’t want public. He sniffs. Merlin, he even went and voiced his doubts over Draco’s feelings for him, which is something he has kept hidden deeply. He has had his doubts, how could he not? Draco Malfoy hated him and now they are snogging buddies, of course he has been dubious. But he never meant to tell Draco that. He just wanted everything to be simple. To be easy. And now he’s screwed it up.

He looks up from his knees, eyes red and stares straight ahead, numb. Then he blinks as one of the books on the shelf catches his eye. He glances up and down the row to make sure he is alone, before shrugging off his cloak and crawling over to grab the book. He crosses his legs and opens _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._ He flicks through it until he lands on the story of the Three Brothers. His fingers lightly touch the page as he stares down at it.

“Hey.”

Harry looks up to find Draco standing there, watching him nervously. Harry looks down shamefully, before glancing back up to meet his gaze. “Hey.”

Draco bites his lip and looks around, then walks over and sits down opposite Harry, leaning against the shelf of books. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you ever doubted that I care about you. I love you, Harry. And I know that we don’t have the best history, but this year has been different. You know that. I’m so in love with you, it makes me sick.”

Harry laughs pitifully, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Jeez, is that a compliment or not?”

Draco giggles. Harry bites his lip, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it. I mean, I did, but not like that. I just…” he meets Draco’s gaze. “I don’t want to see you get hurt because of me.”

Draco crawls over to him, reaching out with a hand to wipe Harry’s drying tears from his face. “No one is going to hurt me, Harry. We’ll be okay. Both of us.”

Harry smiles slightly. “Love you.”

Draco presses his forehead to Harry’s. “I know.”

Harry flies out onto the quidditch pitch along with the rest of his team, his quidditch robes fluttering in the breeze. The crowds in the stands cheer wildly, everyone excited to see their favorite Seeker back out on the pitch. Harry’s pulse is pounding, his blood flowing. He can’t believe that he is back here, about to play a quidditch match. How he has missed this. Quidditch has always been one thing that he could depend upon, despite all the other shit going on at school. 

He flies in formation along with the team, swooping and diving as the crowd goes wild. Harry grins widely as the team draws to a halt to hover in the air, whilst the Hufflepuff team flies onto the pitch. Harry scans the crowd as they wait and he beams when he spots all of the 8thyears sat together instead of with their houses. Harry waves at them and the group grins back at them, whooping crazily. Draco catches his eye and Harry desperately was to blow Draco a kiss, or do something just as soppy, but he forces himself to look away before he can act on the instinct.

Madam Hooch swoops in on her broom, hovering between the two teams. “Now, I want a clean match, understand?”

The two teams grin. The whistle blows and the game is on. Harry flies up immediately so that he is hovering above the match. He scans the air, looking out for the snitch. There is no sign of it. The Hufflepuff Seeker – Summerby - hovers opposite him, tossing Harry the occasional look. Harry keeps his eyes peeled, but there is still no sign of the snitch. He watches the game play out bellow him. The Gryffindor team is definitely not as good as it used to be, but it isn’t horrible. They are ahead of Hufflepuff by 20 points. The game drags on and soon over an hour has passed. Harry risks a glance at Draco, who is staring right back at him. Both boys blush and look away from each other. As Harry is tilting his head he spots a small flutter out the corner of his eye and just like that he is diving after the snitch. The crowd goes wild and the young Gryffindor student who has taken over the role of commentator calls out, “Potter has seen the snitch! I repeat, Potter has seen the snitch!”

Harry blocks out the world around him and zeros in on the snitch, its little wings flapping at a frantic pace. Summerby is close behind Harry. The snitch shoots upwards and the Seekers follow it, tilting their brooms up and soaring higher into the sky at lightning speed. The air grows colder the higher they climb and it gets more difficult to breathe. Harry is so close to the snitch now. He reaches out to catch it. His fingers graze the snitch, but before he can grip it, Summerby rams into him. Harry yelps as he falls off his broom. He holds onto it with both hands, hanging. He glances down, unable to see the ground or the stands through the thick, gray clouds. He winces, before huffing out a breath and heaving himself back onto his broom. He sighs in relief, then leans forward and zooms after Summerby, who has flown even higher into the sky.

Harry leans even further forward on his broom, picking up speed. It is moments like this that he is grateful to have the latest and fastest broom on the market. He has caught up with Summerby within moments and he shoves the Hufflepuff Seeker out the way so that he can reach out for the snitch. He grins widely, ecstatic when his fingers close around the snitch.

He stops, hovering in the air with the snitch beating in his enclosed fingers. Summerby stops beside him, smiling supportively. “Well done, Harry. Good game.”

Harry reaches out with the snitch free hand and shakes Summerby’s hand, before he quickly grips his broom again. The two boys grin at each other, before they slowly start to fly downward. However, just as they are breaking through the clouds and back into the visibility of the pitch, a Bludger flies through the air. Harry spots it before Summerby, who is still blissfully unaware of the ball flying towards him.

“Move!” Harry yells at Summerby.

The Hufflepuff boy doesn’t seem to register, not moving an inch out of harms way. Harry huffs in frustration, before swooping in and shoving Summerby out of the way. He barely has time to register anything other than Summerby’s surprised expression, before there is a searing pain in his head and the world turns black.

**Draco**

Draco sighs, feeling restless as he stares up at the sky, waiting for Harry and Summerby to return from the heavens. They’ve been up there for ages and Draco is starting to worry. Pansy is beside him, and she slips her hand into his in support.

“He’ll be all right,” Pansy says.

Draco is too tense to say anything, but he offers her a shaky smile. On his other side, Ron and Hermione are clutching each other’s hands, both looking anxious, but full of anticipation. On the pitch, the Quaffles are flying through hoops. Finally, _finally,_ the two Seekers appear. The crowd whoops, thrilled at the sight. Draco can feel the tension as everyone waits with baited breath, unsure of which of the boys has the snitch, if either of them do. But then there is a commotion with the other players and a Bludger flies towards the Seekers. Harry spots it, Draco can tell by the change in his body language. Harry says something, gesturing, but Summerby doesn’t move out of the line of fire. Draco can tell the moment Harry makes a decision – his body tenses, his broom dips, and then Harry is ploughing into Summerby and pushing the Hufflepuff out of harms way. Draco barely has a second to react before the Bludger hits Harry firmly in the head and he drops like a bag of stones. A collective gasp of horror floods the stands as Harry tumbles to the ground, unconscious. The Gryffindor Keeper is closest to Harry and he swoops under Harry and manages to half catch him and lower him safely to the ground. Draco doesn’t think, doesn’t care. He screams out, standing and before he knows it he is running down the stands and towards Harry. _Please be okay. I love you._

**Harry**

Harry blinks bleary, the world slowly coming into focus. It takes him a moment to realize that he is lying in the middle of the pitch, the solid ground beneath his back. He winces, his head throbbing. Another moment later and his memory resurfaces. He was hit by a Bludger. He closes his eyes, willing away the pain.

He can hear the commotion around him, feel hands patting him down. He groans in pain and writhes on the floor slightly. He tries to sit up, but his head feels like a cauldron about to explode. Then he hears a voice, a voice he loves and recognizes.

“Harry!” Draco screams.

Harry forces his eyes open and smiles weakly when he sees Draco’s concerned face above him. 

Draco’s hands reach out, touching Harry’s face lightly. “Harry? Harry, sweetheart, can you hear me?”

Harry forces a limp hand to reach up and clutch Draco’s. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alive.”

Draco sits back on his knees. “Want to try standing?”

Harry nods. He lets Draco help him into a sitting position and that’s when he first sees all the eyes on him. A small crowd is gathered around him, consisting of the teams and several teachers. Ron and Hermione are standing just behind Draco, watching him with worry. The spectators are silent, hands clasped over mouths as they all watch on, waiting to see how bad his injury is. In the distance, he can see Madam Pomfrey running towards him. He looks back at Draco, who is watching him with an indecipherable look on his face.

Draco helps Harry stand. They face each other in the middle of the pitch, both staring for a moment. Then Draco shoves Harry in the chest. Harry stumbles, startled, but Draco fists his hands in Harry’s quidditch jumper and tugs him flush against him.

“ _Never_ scare me like that again,” Draco growls, before flinging his arms around Harry’s neck and kissing him, right there in front of the entire student body. Harry gasps in surprise, but reaches one hand around Draco’s back to hold him closer, his other hand still clutching the snitch. He can hear the startled noises behind him, but he doesn’t care, smiling against Draco’s lips as he kisses his boyfriend for all the world to see. After a few moments, they part, but keep their arms around each other. Draco’s eyes scan Harry’s face. “You’re not bleeding,” Draco comments. “But you’re going to have a nasty bruise.”

Harry beams and kisses Draco’s nose. “Thanks, love.”

He steps back, turning to face the gawking spectators. He clears his throat, holding out his hand. He slowly uncurls his fingers and the snitch flutters above his palm. The commentator clears his throat and says, “Potter has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins the match!”

Hesitant clapping begins, before it gradually breaks out into the usual cheering. Harry lets the snitch fly away and turns back to Draco, beaming. Then, before he can say or do anything else his vision blurs and he once again falls into darkness.

When Harry wakes up again, he is in the infirmary. He blinks, glancing around. Draco, Hermione, Ron, Pansy and Blaise are standing at the edge of his bed. When they notice he’s awake, Draco sits down on the edge of the bed and takes his hand in his.

“Hey, Harry.”

Harry smiles at him. “Hey, Draco.” He glances past him at the group. “Hey, guys. Worried about me?”

Ron snorts. “You spend half your life in here, mate. We’re used to it.”

Harry laughs. Madam Pomfrey bustles over to him then. “Aah, Mr Potter. You’re awake. Here, sit up.” Harry does. “You need to drink this.”

Madam Pomfrey tips the cup back against his lips and Harry drinks the disgusting liquid, determined not to spit it out. Once he’s drunk it, Madam Pomfrey wipes her hands together. “Time for you all to leave. The patient needs to rest.”

Hermione leans forward and hugs Harry tightly. “We need to talk later. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

Harry shrugs, looking sheepish. The group step back, all except Draco. Draco leans in and presses a gentle kiss to Harry’s lips. “I love you,” he says against Harry’s lips.

“I love you, too,” Harry replies. He watches sadly as his friends all leave him alone. Madam Pomfrey bustles about the room, putting things away. “Your friends can come back later, Mr Potter.” Then she leaves him be.

Harry falls back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling whilst he twiddles his fingers in his lap. Great. Now what is he supposed to do. He looks around the room and gasps when he sees snake form Draco slithering across the floor and towards the bed. Harry leans over the side of the bed and Draco coils around his arm. Harry lifts him up onto the bed. He curls up, Draco coiling around him. They lie there together, Harry’s fingers stroking up and down Draco’s body.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Harry murmurs in parseltongue.

Draco’s tongue pokes out at Harry’s skin. “Hey, love. Are you okay?”

Harry smiles, closing his eyes. “Yeah. Just a headache.”

The don’t say anything after that. They just lie there together, Draco hidden under the covers. Harry smiles to himself. He feels so completely and inexplicitly happy. And now everyone knows that Draco is his. No more hiding. He cannot wait until tomorrow.

**Hermione**

The second they are out of the infirmary, Hermione rounds on the group, glaring. “Draco Malfoy, how long have you been dating my best friend?”

Malfoy flushes and has the gal to look sheepish and abashed. “We, uh, we aren’t dating?”

Hermione places her hands on her hips. “ _Aren’t dating?_ You expect me to believe that Harry would let you snog him in front of the entire school if you weren’t dating? Besides, you just told Harry you love him. We aren’t deaf or blind, you know!”

Malfoy bites his lip. “Sorry, Granger. Harry wanted to keep it a secret and I agreed with him. We wanted to keep it out of the press.”

Hermione scoffs. “We’re his friends! We wouldn’t have told the press!” She sniffs, a tear falling. She wipes it angrily. “How long?”

Malfoy stares at his shoes. “Nearly two months.”

Hermione grinds her teeth, before turning to her boyfriend. “And you, Ronald Weasley? Why don’t you look surprised? Or you, Parkinson? Zabini, you look as though you’ve swallowed a slug, so I assume you didn’t know.”

Zabini shakes his head. Parkinson shrugs coyly. “I suspected so I cornered Draco and got him to confess.”

Ron looks green. “I saw them _kissing._ In the library.”

Malfoy snorts. “Weasley, you heard us in Harry’s room before that.”

Ron goes redder. “Shut _up._ I don’t want to think about that.” He shudders.

Malfoy laughs. “We weren’t really kissing, but we realized you were outside the door and thought we’d traumatize you. The library wasn’t an accident either.”

Ron stares at Malfoy with wide eyes. “I know. He told me. You’ve corrupted Harry!”

Malfoy shakes his head. “Oh, no, Weasley. Harry was corrupted long before I lay a finger on him.” He looks down the corridor to check if it’s empty, before he hands his bag to Parkinson and says, “I’ll see you all later.”

Malfoy promptly turns into a snake and slithers back into the infirmary, leaving Ron and Hermione to gawk after him, while Zabini and Parkinson simply raise their eyebrows. Parkinson then turns to Hermione.

“They make each other happy, Hermione. We should support them. It’s like you said, we’re their friends. And you and I both know that the backlash from the press is going to be intense. We should help them in every way that we can.”

Hermione sighs. “You’re right, of course, Park-Pansy. We need to be there for them both.”

Parkinson nods, says goodbye and drags Zabini away, leaving Ron and Hermione alone. Hermione turns to her boyfriend, arms folded across her chest. Ron gulps.

“You, Ronald Weasley, are going to make this up to me, you hear?”

Ron nods quickly. Hermione smirks to herself. “Good. Come on. We have damage control to handle.”  
Ron risks slipping his hand into hers and she lets him. They walk down the corridor together, preparing to face the student body and the press.

“If anybody asks, we simply say no comment, all right?” Hermione says as she spots the first reporter hanging around outside, loitering. “We need to talk to Harry and… and Draco first. But if I hear any bogus being told to the press I am stepping in and fixing it. I won’t let ignorant dweeps tarnish my friend and his boyfriend.”

Ron smiles at her and squeezes his hand. “No one is going to hurt Harry, ‘Mione. That’s why we’re here, after all. To keep the idiot Savior safe.”

They both laugh. Oh, Harry, Hermione thinks to herself. I love you, you idiot. But why do you always have to make things so damn complicated.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. Here is the next update. Sorry that it's a bit shorter than usual. This story is nearly done. Thank you for all the support so far. xxx

**Chapter Fifteen**

_Give me love like never before  
'Cause lately I've been craving more_

  * Give Me Love, Ed Sheeran



****

**Lucius**

Lucius Malfoy sits huddled up in his cell in Azkaban. The cell is dark, mangy and smelly. It is utterly undignified. His hair has lost its shiny sheen and he wants nothing more than a shower. He sniffs, eyeing the bars of his cell. It’s been months, and yet he still hasn’t figured out how to escape from this dratted place. He scratches at his mucky skin, contemplating yet another plot to get out of here.

The gate creaks and the unmistakable chill that accompanies the Dementors hits him. He cowers into the corner, hoping to avoid the madness that consumes him when in the Dementors presence. The small hole that allows the Patrol to slip food in opens. Lucius looks over at the Patrol agent. It’s a wizard he doesn’t recognize, a new man on staff. The Patrol agent shoves the tray of slop in. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, slides in a newspaper.

Lucius eyes it curiously. The Patrol has never given him anything other than slop and letters from Narcissa before. He crawls over to it and picks up the newspaper.

“Happy reading,” the Patrol agent says, before walking away, the Dementor hovering after him.

Lucius looks down at the paper and nearly chokes. On the front page of the paper, there is a picture of his _son_ snogging that _Potter boy._ He blinks at the page, horrified. “Am I hallucinating?” he whispers in disgust as picture Draco leans forward and snogs Potter. His eyes fall to the article bellow the photograph.

_Harry Potter once again shocks the press when he and the Malfoy heir, Draco Malfoy, kissed after Potter suffered from an accident during Quidditch yesterday afternoon._

_Potter, previously boyfriend to Ginevra Weasley, broke it off with his girlfriend before the Second Wizarding War. However, whilst the public believed that Potter and Miss Weasley would reestablish their relationship after the war, they never did. Potter has been sighted with the Weasley family, however close sources have confirmed that the two never rekindled their romance._

_Potter has been seen in the company of Luna Lovegood and Pansy Parkinson, and the public has speculated on the nature of these relationships. However, recent events have revealed that Harry Potter has been having a secret affair with Draco Malfoy._

_Potter took a Bludger to the head during a quidditch game. A distraught Malfoy ran onto the pitch to check on Potter, before kissing him._

_Close friends claim the two boys have become friends’ over the past few months. However, as far as we have heard, no one knew of the true nature of their relationship._

_Potter is supposedly still in the infirmary at Hogwarts and no one has seen Malfoy since the accident. We hope to have an interview with the boys’ as soon as possible._

Lucius drops the paper as though it has burnt him. This can’t be right. _His son,_ secretly dating _Harry Potter._ No… no, this is all some sick joke. Draco would never tarnish the Malfoy name in such a way. He looks down at the photograph, his mouth twisting in disgust. Surely this is a misunderstanding. Surely…

He watches his son carefully, sees how he shoves Potter, before grabbing a hold of Potter and pulling him close, their lips smashing together forcefully. He reaches out for the writing paper he is allowed to keep with him and very carefully writes a letter to Narcissa.

My Dearest wife,

I have just received a copy of today’s paper, in which our son, Draco, is seen kissing Harry Potter. Please explain this to me. This has to be some misunderstanding, surely? Our son would never tarnish our name in such a way. I look forward to hearing from you.

How are you feeling, my love? Have you been released from St. Mungos yet? Do they know what illness it is that ails you?

Your husband,

Lucius

He signs the page and places it in an envelope, which he doesn’t bother sealing, as the Patrol will open it to read it anyway. He looks back down at the newspaper, sighing. Draco doesn’t look as though what is happening is a mistake. In fact, Lucius muses, watching as his son’s arms wrap around Potter’s neck and pull him close, Draco looks as though he is rather enjoying himself. Lucius shivers in horror. This a nightmare, a bad dream. That’s what Dementors do. They create darkness and sadness and pain. This is simply a side effect of that. He has lost his mind temporarily. When he regains his sanity, he’ll see that this never happened. His son would never betray him in such a way, would he?

Lucius eyes the picture one last time. He has to admit… Potter looks decent enough. And he does have lovely hair, even if it is rather unruly. And he has beautiful eyes. If Draco has to choose a male companion, well, Harry Potter isn’t ugly, at least. Malfoy’s don’t endure ugliness. Yes, Draco has chosen nicely enough in the looks department. Now if they could change Potter’s personality, then maybe, just maybe…

**Harry**

Harry swallows, glancing over at Draco, who is standing beside him. Draco smiles at him and reaches out to take Harry’s hand in his.

“We’ll be fine,” Draco says.

Harry smiles back. Snake form Draco had left the infirmary early in the morning and come back human, showered and dressed to walk with Harry to breakfast. They are already late for the occasion and now they are standing, hand in hand, outside the Great Hall. Harry leans into Draco and presses a quick kiss to Draco’s lips, before pulling back and looking his boyfriend over. What with it being a Sunday, neither boy is in school uniform. Draco is wearing jeans and a white shirt, whereas Harry is wearing a three quarter sleeve black top and Draco’s black and green Slytherin hoodie. Draco notices Harry’s staring and smirks.

“I know, Potter, I’m gorgeous.”

Harry rolls his eyes and presses a light kiss to Draco’s cheek. “Let’s do this.”

They push the door open and step into the Great Hall together. The conversation dies instantly and Harry sighs as he once again has to deal with every eye being fixed on him. He stops walking and turns to Draco, who is still clutching his hand, the grip tightening.

“Draco?” Harry says.

“Harry.”

“I love you.”

Harry stands on his tiptoes, wraps his arms around Draco’s neck and promptly starts to snog him. The hall remains in stunned silence for a few seconds, before a few people start to cheer. Harry laughs against Draco’s lips, but he doesn’t stop kissing him. The hall is in uproar now, cheers, whooping and something that looks suspiciously like Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes fireworks. The two boys only pull apart when there is a loud coughing in front of them and the hall falls into dead silence. They step away from each other, keeping their hands linked, and face Headmistress McGonagall who is looking down on them with pursed lips.

“Well,” she exclaims, “when I talked to you all about after war unity, I didn’t mean you had to kiss each other. However, good work, gentleman. You have truly demonstrated that the past is in the past. From now on, please keep the… snogging to a more private environment.”

She turns away from them to face the rest of the hall. Behind her back, Harry and Draco desperately try not to laugh, forcibly not looking at each other in fear of the hysterical giggles that might break forth.

McGonagall clasps her hands. “Continue with what you were doing before that rather… enrapturing display.” Then she strolls back down the middle of the hall and to her seat at the teachers table.

Draco and Harry look around and smile giddily when they spot Pansy and Blaise at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione, as well as Luna and Neville. They walk over to their friends and slide into their seats, smiling around the table.

“Morning,” Harry says, grabbing at the food.

Hermione slaps his hand away, glaring. “How are you feeling, Harry? And why didn’t you tell me, Harry?”

Harry bites his lip, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, Hermione.”

She nods in acceptance. “Now, I want to know the story. The full story, you hear me?”

Harry laughs, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder. “Later. I promise I’ll answer all your questions.”

The owls arrive then and Harry watches them joyfully as they swoop into the hall carrying packages. Harry has always loved watching the mail being delivered. Owls were one of the first things he ever saw that connected him to the wizarding world. They’ll always hold some importance in his heart. One owl swoops down and drops a letter into Draco’s hands, several letters fall in front of Harry and another drops a newspaper in the middle of the table, between Harry and his friends. Harry reaches out to grip it, but Hermione snatches it away. Harry watches as she scans the article and every second she keeps it, his heart drops a little further in worry as to what could possibly have been said. When it all becomes too much, he leans over the table and snatches it from her.

Hermione smiles. “It isn’t too bad.”

Harry looks down at it, placing the paper flat on the table so that the others can see. On the front page there is a picture that someone captured of the exact moment Draco had drawn him in for a kiss. Harry stares at it, before he grins and leans in to whisper, “We look hot together,” in Draco’s ear. Draco turns several shades of red, but his lips twitch upwards in a smug smile.

Harry quickly scans the article and is relieved. Hermione is right. The article isn’t too bad. But he knows that there will be far worse written in the days to come.

He looks down at the mail he received and isn’t surprised when he spots who they are from. There are several from newspaper companies, no doubt wanting an interview. Then there is one off the Weasley’s, which Harry is a bit scared to open. Mrs Weasley had been very welcoming of his friendship with Draco, but he isn’t so sure of her stance on being gay or on him dating Draco. Then there is the fan mail, which he definitely is not going to read. He learnt a long time ago that the words written by obsessive witches and wizards can hurt him more than any newspaper article. He turns back to Draco, who is reading the letter that was delivered to him. Harry looks over his shoulder and reads it, Draco tilting it so that it is easier for him to see.

My dearest son,

I hope you are well. I see that you and Harry have revealed your relationship to the public at last. There will be those that try to hurt you, my son, for they won’t believe or accept that their hero could possibly date… you, an opponent during the time of war.

Stay strong, darling. Harry loves you and you love him. Let that be enough.

You sounded worried in the last letter you sent to me. Please don’t be. I know that this has been a long month for our family and that my stay in St Mungos has you concerned. The Healers have assured me that they think they have discovered the cause of my illness but that they need to run a couple more tests to confirm this. I will write when I know more.

I love you, Draco. Send my love to Harry, too.

Your mother,   
Narcissa

Harry rests his chin on Draco’s shoulder and kisses the side of his neck lightly. “That’s good news. About your mum.” Narcissa has been in St Mungos for over a month now with no sign of change and Draco has been worried sick. Draco rests his cheek n Harry’s head and sighs.   
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

Harry is about to reply when the air shimmers slightly and Snape appears, fuming.

“I told you to leave my godson alone, Potter!”

Harry gulps and clutches Draco’s hand tighter. Draco shoots him a worried look. “Harry?”

Harry leans in and whispers, “Snape is yelling at me.”

Draco nods in understanding. He stands, dragging Harry with him, and they walk out of the hall. Harry yells goodbye to his friends over his shoulder, his voice faltering when he sees Snape following him and Draco with a glare on his face. Once they are out of the hall, Harry expects them to stop, but they keep on walking, Snape trailing behind them, until they reach Draco’s art room. Once inside, Draco turns to Harry and says, “Well? Where is he?”

Harry nervously points at Snape. Draco turns to look in that direction. “Severus,” he begins, “leave my boyfriend alone, please. I love him and you can’t go about threatening him and telling him to leave me alone.”

Snape looks at Harry. “You told him you can see ghosts?”

Harry smiles softly. “I told him everything.”

Snape frowns. “Why?”

Harry laughs lightly. “Because I love him, Professor.”

Snape watches Harry for a while, his expression slightly pained. Finally, finally, he says, “I’ll help you.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “What?”

Draco frowns. “What did he say?”

Harry shushes Draco, moving closer to Snape. “How?”

Snape grinds his teeth. “You can’t control Death because you don’t know how, but you are his master. I will tell you how.”

Harry tilts his head. “How would that help anything? How would me knowing how to control Death solve any of these problems?”

Behind him, Draco gasps, but Harry ignores him.

“Voldemort grows stronger inside of you. All of us on this side can feel it, Potter. You need to stop him before it is too late. You have three options.”

“Three,” Harry whispers. “That’s what Padfoot said. What options are you all talking about?”

“Kill yourself and in turn kill Voldemort. Go on as you are and allow the inevitable future to play out in which Voldemort gains full control of you and your body. Or bargain with Death.”

Harry gawks at him. “Bargain with _Death?”_

“Harry,” Draco hisses. “What is going on?”

Harry shoots Draco a look, linking their pinkies together. “Hang on, Draco. The spirits can’t hang around forever. I need to talk to him _now.”_ He looks back at Snape.

Snape nods. “You must learn to harness your power as Death’s master and then make a deal with him. He loves deals.” Then Snape is gone.

Harry stands there, staring at the now empty spot, eyes wide. He slowly turns to face Draco. With a trembling voice, he relays the conversation to Draco, who stares at him, flabbergasted. Once Harry is done, Draco presses his forehead to Harry’s and says, “It’s good news, Harry. We’ve been given an option in which you don’t have to die.”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “We don’t know what I’ll have to bargain with Death.”

Draco places a kiss on Harry’s temple and says, “I don’t care what we have to bargain. I’m keeping you with me.”

“Forever?” Harry asks, only half joking.

Draco nods solemnly. “Forever. I am going to keep you locked away in my creepy Death Eater dungeon and use you as my personal sex slave.”

“I hope I’m your only sex slave,” Harry retorts, squealing when Draco’s fingers dig into his sides, tickling him. Harry laughs loudly, trying to escape, but Draco holds onto him, his fingers running up and down Harry, causing him to double over in pained laughter. “Draco, stop! No tickling! Stop!”

Draco stops tickling him, beaming. Harry shakes his head fondly and kisses him lightly on the lips. “Love you.”

Draco smiles back affectionately, his fingers reaching up to straighten Harry’s glasses. “I love you, too, Scarhead.”

They stand there for a while, neither moving, until Draco says, “You need to tell Ron and Hermione. Everything. They’ve helped you with so much already. They could help with this.” Harry sighs, nodding. “I know. It’s time I tell them the full story.” He steps back, tugging on Draco’s hand. “Come with me?”

Draco squeezes Harry’s hand, presses a gentle kiss to the nape of Harry’s neck and whispers, “Always.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is very nearly done. Warning... this chapter isn't exactly... happy. And sorry, it's another short update.  
> I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> xxx

**Chapter Sixteen**

  
_Hallelujah,_   
_You were an angel in the shape of my mum_   
_You got to see the person I have become_   
_Spread your wings and I know_   
_That when God took you back, he said,_ _"Hallelujah, you're home."_

  * Supermarket Flowers, Ed Sheeran



****

**Harry**

Ron and Hermione were not happy when Harry told them the truth about Voldemort. However, they quickly got over it when they realized just how much is at stake if they don’t figure out the meaning of Snape’s words. Hermione has barely left the library since, and Ron, being the love struck idiot that he is, has been in there with her. Harry actually thinks that they are sort of adorable. He smiles, thinking about it. He is so glad that his friends are happy. They deserve to be.

He rolls over in the bed and stares at Draco’s sleeping face. It has been one week since the Quidditch match and the revelation of their relationship. Harry has given three interviews for the press, dragging Draco to each of them, as he’d said, “You can’t leave me to suffer for both of us, Malfoy. You either come with or I’ll tell everyone you really did use a love potion on me” (which seems to be the most popular theory flying around at present.)

Harry sighs. He is so in love, it’s ridiculous. He leans forward and presses a single kiss to Draco’s lips. Draco cracks one eye open, huffing.

“Let me sleep, Potter.”

Harry bites his lip to hide his smile. Draco is simply adorable in the morning. Harry rolls back onto his back and mutters, “Accio glasses.” His glasses fly through the air and into his hand. He slips them on quickly and the world becomes more focused. More real. He sighs again and this time a sharp pain shoots up his spine as he does so. He hisses in pain and sits up slightly, rubbing at the back of his neck. Draco gasps behind him.

“Harry, what happened?”

Harry frowns. “What?”

Draco sits up behind him, the blanket pillowing in his lap, revealing that Draco is wearing Harry’s Gryffindor t-shirt. Harry raises an eyebrow. Draco flushes but stubbornly sticks out his chin. “Don’t you dare say anything, Potter. Besides, you’re wearing _my Slytherin_ t-shirt,” which, Harry realizes, looking down, he really is.

Draco reaches out and touches the back of Harry’s neck. Harry hisses again, yelping slightly when Draco prods harder. “You have a massive bruise. It definitely wasn’t there last night.”

Harry gulps. “Do you – do you think that I… that Voldemort did something last night?”

Draco rests his chin on Harry’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “It’s possible. I was down stairs reading till 3am. You were sleeping when I came upstairs, but you could have… done something before that.”

Harry frowns. “I didn’t go downstairs with you last night?”

Draco presses a kiss to Harry’s shoulder. “No. You went to bed at 8. I came up at ten and you were fast asleep so I left you. It was the first time you’ve looked peaceful whilst sleeping in ages.”

Harry breathes out deeply. “So sometime between you checking on me at ten and you coming to bed at three, I got a massive bruise on the back of my neck that feels as though I’ve be Crucio’d.”

Draco sighs. “Can’t you… ask Voldemort?”

Harry pushes Draco away and turns to glower at him. Draco raises his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry.”

Harry clicks his tongue as he thinks _. V_ oldemort _?_ He tries. You there?

_Yes, I’m here, Harry. I’m always here. Tell me, how did you enjoy last night?_

“So you did do something?” Harry muses.

“Harry?” Draco questions, but Harry holds up his hand to silence him. Draco huffs, but falls back onto the bed, his fingers playing with the blanket. Harry smiles softly and reaches out to grip one of Draco’s hands, intertwining their pinkies. He simply can’t not be touching Draco.

_We did something. We did something that is going to destroy your world, Harry Potter. You took my life from me, so I took something from you._

Harry frowns. “You’ve already taken so much from me. So many people… what more do you have to take until you consider us even?”

Voldemort laughs, the sound ricocheting in Harry’s mind. _Oh, Harry. He’ll never forgive you._

Harry’s brow furrows, his lips parting in confusion and worry. “What have you done?” he whispers. And that’s when he sees it. The figure stood in the corner of the room, watching him. He gasps in horror, his lips trembling. “No. No, no, no. Please, Merlin, no.”

Draco is sitting up in an instant, his hands going to Harry’s shoulders. “Harry?” When Harry doesn’t respond, Draco places a long finger under Harry’s chin and tilts his head to face him, but Harry shakes him off, unable to look Draco in the eye, unable to tear his gaze from the dead woman standing in the corner, watching him with a sad smile on her face.

“It isn’t your fault, Harry,” Narcissa Malfoy says. “And Harry, be careful. You hear things on this side. I know about Voldemort being inside of you. Last night,” she hesitates. “Harry, Voldemort made you kill someone last night.”

Harry gulps, nauseas and guilty. Merlin, what has he done? “Who?” He manages to get out.

Narcissa shakes her head sadly. “The Healer who figured out my illness. But Harry, it was already too late. By the time the Healer would have reached me, I’d have already been dead.” She smiles. “Tell my son I love him,” Narcissa says, before fading.

Harry reaches up his hands, running them through his hair, over his face. Tears start to fall. He is vaguely aware of Draco talking to him insistently, talking to him, but all he can say is, “What have I done? Oh, Merlin, what have I done.”

He forces himself to look away from the spot where Narcissa was, to meet Draco’s worried gaze.

_He’ll never forgive you. Poor Potter. No one will love you once they learn what you’ve done. But don't worry. The Healer's death appears to be totally natural. No one will suspect she was murdered. Unless dear little Draco decides to turn you in. You did cause his mothers death, after all._

“Shut up!” Harry screams, clutching his head. “Just shut up!”

He sobs, shaking his head. “Draco, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I… I… your mother.” Harry takes a breath, forcing himself to calm down, to talk rationally. “Your mother is gone.”

Draco stares at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

Harry bites his lip, shaking his head slightly in despair. “She’s dead.”

Draco stares at Harry, his expression blank. “No.”

“Draco- “

“No! She can’t be! The Healers were fixing her. They were going to help her.”

Harry gulps. “I don’t know… I’m sorry. But she’s gone. The Healers…” He can’t tell Draco that he practically killed Narcissa. But he can’t lie. “Voldemort made me kill her Healer,” he whispers. “But Draco, they were already too late.”

Draco stares at Harry in horror. “Get out.”

“Draco- “

“Get. Out. Please. I need some time. Please.”

Harry leans forward, aiming to kiss Draco’s temple, but Draco flinches and turns his head away.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry whispers brokenly.

He gets off the bed and walks out of Draco’s room.

**Draco**

Draco lies curled up in his bed, sniffing as the last few tears fall. He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying there. But he wants Harry. He needs Harry. He buries his face in his pillow, trying not to think about the fact that Voldemort practically murdered his mother using Harry’s body. A St Mungos official had shown up soon after Harry left to inform him of how his mother had passed away in the middle of the night. He tries not to think about Harry murdering her Healer. He tries not to think about how she died. Why she died. Her dying. That isn’t an image he wants.

He gulps, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. That is it. Voldemort has taken so much from him, from Harry, from everyone. He doesn’t care what they have to do to get rid of the bastard, so long as Harry is okay. Draco refuses to lose anyone else.

His bedroom door creaks open and he looks over to see Harry standing there, hands in the pockets of his jacket – Draco’s jacket. Harry looks as bad as Draco. His eyes are puffy; his face red. Draco doesn’t say anything. He just lifts the covers of the blanket so that Harry can slip in beside him. Harry’s face flickers in relief and then he is there beside Draco, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. Draco buries his head in Harry’s chest and sniffs. Harry’s fingers gently caress Draco’s skin, brush through his hair. Draco sighs into the embrace. It feels nice to be held. He sniffs.

“I can’t believe that she’s gone,” he croaks.

Harry’s hand stills for a moment, before he continues combing his fingers through Draco’s hair. “I’m so sorry, Draco.”

Draco kisses Harry’s chest, right above his heart. “It isn’t your fault. It’s Voldemort’s. We have to fix this, Harry. We have to kill him.”

Harry sighs into his hair. “We can’t do anything until we figure out how I control Death. Hermione thinks she’s onto something. We just have to be patient. And Draco? Maybe I shouldn’t be alone at all. In case… in case.”

Draco holds Harry tighter. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

**Harry**

The funeral is a small affair at Malfoy Manor. Harry, Draco, Andromeda and Teddy. Despite the sad occasion, Harry can’t help but smile as Draco meets his aunt and Teddy. They are, after all, Draco’s family.

Teddy is bigger than the last time Harry saw him over Christmas. He can also talk more. The child spends the entire time clinging to Harry, who uses it as an excuse to leave Draco alone with Andromeda. He goes into the garden to play with Teddy and when he returns to the dining room, Draco is in Andromeda’s arms and they are both crying.

Later, when they have returned to Hogwarts and are lying curled up in Harry’s bed, Draco thanks him. Harry just smiles and kisses the top of Draco’s head.

One day a few weeks later, they are sat at the table eating dinner when Ginny runs over to him and throws herself into his lap, hugging him tightly. Harry hugs her back, shooting Draco a confused glance over her shoulder.

“Gin?”

“I got it!” She proclaims, pulling back and standing. She is practically radiating. “I got the position as Chaser! I start as soon as I complete my N.E.W.T.s.”

Harry beams at her. “That’s brilliant, Gin! I’m so proud of you.”

She grins at him. “Thanks, Harry. And thanks for covering for me as Seeker.” She leans forward and pecks his cheek. “I’ll see you later, yeah.” Then she runs back over to Luna and her friends.

Harry smiles after her, then turns back to Draco, who is staring at him stonily. Harry frowns. “What?”

Draco leans in, his eyes narrowed. “No one gets to kiss you, but me. Got it?”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Draco, that wasn’t a kiss. Trust me, I’ve kissed Ginny before and – “

Draco grips Harry tightly and slants their lips together. Harry sighs, gripping the back of Draco’s neck and kissing him roughly. Across the table, Hermione sighs and Ron makes a squawking noise. Harry ignores them and pulls Draco closer. Draco pulls back abruptly and stands, flushed. He reaches out for Harry’s hand and tugs him to his feet.

“Come on, Potter,” he grumbles, dragging Harry from the hall. Harry looks back at his friends, who are giggling. Pansy waves, smirking. Harry flushes and looks away, running after Draco like a puppy chases its master. He blushes.

Draco leads them to his art room and mutters a quick spell, locking the door. Harry mutters a silencing charm and then launches himself at Draco. Draco’s arms close around him, holding him close. They kiss frantically, both craving the touch, the feeling. As they kiss, Harry trips and they fall to the floor, knocking over a can of pink paint. It spills onto the floor, splattering their clothes and hair. Harry scrambles off Draco, sitting up. He’s about to apologize, but Draco crawls after him and into his lap, reattaching his lips to Harry’s. They kiss for several minutes, before Harry pulls away.

They stare at each other for few moments. Then Draco’s gaze skitters past Harry, looking at something behind him. Harry knows what it is without having to turn around.

The portrait of Narcissa.

Harry’s hand reaches up to cup Draco’s face. It is wet with tears. Harry kisses his boyfriend gently, once more, before pulling away. Draco chokes back a sob.

“I miss her.”

Harry wipes the tears from Draco’s eyes. “I know.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is. The next update. I've left some notes at the end of this chapter. Please read them. 
> 
> Enjoy.   
> xxx

**Chapter Seventeen**

****

_I can see the stars as a cold wind greets the air_ __  
And will you think of me up there?  
Can I say goodbye to you?  
And paint the stains of the teardrops down my face  
Or feel the chill of your warm embrace?  
Can I say goodbye to you?

****

  * Goodbye To You, Ed Sheeran



****

**Hermione**

Hermione walks into the library one afternoon to spot Malfoy sat alone, books scattered across the table as he focuses intently on his work. Across from him there is a group of younger students, staring and whispering rudely, no doubt about Malfoy and Harry’s relationship or the death of Narcissa.

Hermione grits her teeth together. She might not like Malfoy, but she has been working on accepting him all year. Harry dating him has just sped up the process. After the initial shock, she has managed to see just how much Malfoy has helped Harry and how much Harry has helped Malfoy. The boys are good for each other.

Hermione sucks in a breath and walks over to Malfoy’s table, sitting down opposite him. Malfoy looks up at her, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Granger.”

“Draco,” she replies. She glances at the books he has open. “Ancient Runes? Perfect, I need to work on my own assignment.”

Malfoy continues to stare at her. “Why are you doing this? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you. Not anymore. Besides, you’re my best friend’s boyfriend. I have to befriend you at some point. Now, why don’t I research the section on healing runes and you can research the curses? Then we can share information.”

Malfoy stares at her for a moment longer, before nodding slowly and smiling. “Okay, _Hermione_. But I choose the healing runes. You can research curses. I’ve had enough of them for my life time.”

Hermione beams at him. “Okay.”

They spend the next couple of hours working together in perfect unison. Hermione tries not to dwell on the strangeness of it all. Then, just as they are closing their books, Pansy Parkinson plonks herself at their table in the seat next to Draco.

“Draco, darling,” she purrs. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I have a confession.”

Draco raises a single eyebrow and stares Pansy down. Hermione presses her lips together and looks down at the table to keep from giggling at his bored and resigned expression.

“What is it, Pans?” Draco asks.

Pansy leans in conspiringly. Then she leans back, frowns and grips Hermione’s arm. She tugs Hermione close.

“Don’t you want to hear my confession too?” Pansy says. She doesn’t wait for an answer, instead turning back to Draco but keeps a firm grip on Hermione.

Hermione feels as though she’s been transported into a parallel universe. Here she is, gossiping with Slytherins. What has her life become?

“I broke up with Professor Puck Gwydion a week or so ago.”

Hermione feels her eyes widen. “You were dating a professor!?” She exclaims.

“Shh,” Draco and Pansy say as one.

“Of course I was,” Pansy says, just as Draco says, “Of course she was.”

And honestly, Hermione can’t help but find it adorable how in sync with each other the two friends are.

“But,” Pansy continues, “I broke up with him because…” she pauses dramatically, “Blaise and I are together.”

Draco chokes on the air around him. “You?” He wheezes. “And Blaise? My Blaise?”

Pansy tuts and whacks his arm. “He isn’t your Blaise. He’s mine. You have Potter. Why can’t I have Blaise?”  
Draco hurriedly schools his features and smiles. Hermione holds back a snort at the cringeworthy grin on Draco’s face.

“No reason,” Draco says. “I’m happy for you both.”

Pansy huffs. “Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go and shag my boyfriend.” She smirks. “He does love a good round of sex.”

Draco groans. Pansy stands and smiles at each of them in turn. “Draco. Hermione.” Then she saunters off.

Draco bangs his head on the table. “What have I done to be stuck with such friends?” he moans. “And the two of them together…” he shudders. “Blimey, that’s terrifying.”

Hermione can’t stop herself from laughing this time. Draco peels his head off the desk and glares at her. Hermione reaches over and pats his arm.

“There, there,” she coos. “At least you have Harry to protect you.”

Draco’s glare fades, turning into a worried frown. “Has he said anything to you?” Draco urges softly. “About everything?”

Hermione shakes her head, startled by the worry in Draco’s eyes.

“It’s getting worse,” Draco says softly. “Most nights Voldemort possesses him. And the dead are showing up more and more. He’s breaking, Hermione.”

Hermione chews at her lip. She wishes she could help them. Both of them. Harry’s endurance can only last for so long. And Draco… Draco tries to be strong for Harry. But he’s just lost his mother and she isn’t blind. She can see how much he is hurting underneath the strong mask he keeps on for Harry’s sake. She lets out a short breath.

“Go find him,” she says softly. “I’m going to look through some more books. There has to be something, somewhere, about being the Master of Death. If Harry’s only hope is to make a deal with Death, well,” she gulps, “well, then, we need to find out how he can do that. I’ll find it. I will.” She repeats firmly.

****

****

****

****

****

**Harry**

The Prefect room bath is still the greatest thing Harry has ever been blessed with experiencing. When Harry told this to Draco, the blond had been most offended that kissing him wasn’t on top of Harry’s list. Harry had told him that maybe kissing Draco in the bathtub would top everything else.

Harry sighs as he steps into the hot water and sinks into it, closing his eyes. Opposite him, Draco groans contently and interlinks their ankles in the middle of the large tub. Harry opens his eyes and smiles at him.

_I think I preferred it when you two weren’t together._

Harry glowers. “Shut up.”

Draco, used to this by now, pushes off the edge of the tub and floats over to Harry, stopping between his legs. Harry shivers, his breath catching in his throat. Draco leans in and kisses Harry deeply, causing Harry to moan.

_Stop it!_

Harry internally smirks and groans louder. Voldemort makes a hasty retreat to ‘the other room.’ The boys learnt that trick a couple weeks ago. Voldemort refuses to hang around when they get… intimate. Draco pulls away and Harry bites his lip as he smiles, glancing down at Draco’s sweet, beautiful mouth.

“Is he gone?” Draco whispers.

Harry nods. Draco sighs. “Well, you promised me a massage so get on with it.”

Harry laughs but shuffles further back so that Draco can sit between his legs, his back firmly against Harry’s chest. Harry breathes in deeply, then reaches up to place his hands on Draco’s shoulders. He starts to massage them slowly, kneading his fingers into the tight muscles. Draco hums appreciatively. He tilts his head forward as Harry’s fingers dig into the muscles of Draco’s shoulders and back. Harry gulps, loving the feeling of Draco’s skin beneath his fingers.

“Feels good,” Draco murmurs, pushing closer to Harry.

Harry’s breathing comes out in short spurts. He lets his hides slide down Draco’s chest and rest on his hips. Draco shifts slightly, the water splashing. Harry’s heart races in his chest as he leans forward and kisses the back of Draco’s neck. Draco gasps, freezing. Harry closes his eyes and gently starts to mouth his way across Draco’s neck and shoulder, sucking lightly. Draco wriggles in his seat slightly.

“H-Harry. Please.”

Harry smiles, pulling his mouth off Draco’s skin. “What do you want, Draco?” He whispers in Draco’s ear.

“Touch me. Please.”

Harry lets his hand slide lower. “Okay.”

They return to the 8thyear common room an hour later to be ambushed by a crazed looking Hermione and an anxious Ron. When Hermione spots them, she runs over to Harry and engulfs him in a hug. “Where have you been?” She demands. Then she flushes. “Actually, I don’t want to know.” She sucks in a breath. “I’ve figured it out. I know how you can summon Death.”

Harry’s eyes widen and Draco’s hand tightens in his. “Oh.”

The four 8thyears hurriedly run upstairs to Hermione’s bedroom so as not to be overheard. Hermione walks over to her desk to grab her notes whilst the other three sit down on the bed, anxious.

“There’s a ritual. You need all three Deathly Hallows to complete it. This ritual allows you to summon Death and he cannot resist the pull. Once summoned, Death can’t leave until his master says he can. I’ve been reading a lot, but since there have been no recorded instances of someone owning all three Deathly Hallows, it’s impossible to tell how it works. I would assume you need something to bargain with, though. Something that Death wants.”

Harry furrows his brow, thinking _. Death grows restless. He wants the Hallows destroyed._ Snape’s words come to him. “I have to destroy the Hallows,” Harry whispers.

Hermione and Ron exchange a look. Harry is about to explain, when a searing pain shoots through his skull and he falls forward, screaming as he clutches his head. He hits the floor heavily, coiling into a ball as the pain consumes him. His body jerks and twists and agony completely takes over every other sense. He screams again, face contorted in pain.

“Help!” he cries out. “MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!”

Hands try to hold him down, to stop him from moving. He fights against it, pain flaring at the touch.

_I will not let you destroy me, Harry Potter. I will not let you summon Death. I will not let you kill me. Either we both live, or we both die._

Harry cries out again, jerking violently. “LET GO OF ME! LEAVE ME ALONE! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”Harry is sobbing now, body jerking with aftershocks. His chest hurts with the effort to breathe. His hands reach out, grapping, seeking relief, _anything._

Then he hears a voice. A gentle, soft voice that he vaguely recognizes.

“Harry. Harry, love, come back to me. Don’t let Voldemort in. Harry, listen to me. Fight it. Come back to me.”

Harry tilts his head towards it. His skin is dripping in sweat and his scar burns. He tries to force his eyes open, to see the face matching the angelic voice. His breathing steadies slightly. The pain fades ever so slightly. He manages to open his eyes, sees blurry outlines of people.

“Please make it stop,” he whimpers. “I just want it to stop.”

A gentle hand touches Harry’s head, wiping the sweat from his brow with a cloth. Harry leans into it, begging for more, for comfort. Finally, his breathing evens out completely and the pain in his head dulls to a barely noticeable ache. He tries to sit up, hands helping him. He winces, his hand touching his scar. He looks up, his eyes meeting Draco’s petrified gaze.

“It’s getting worse,” Draco whispers. “We have to summon Death now.”

Hermione shakes her head. “He needs rest. He needs to recover.”

Harry shakes his head, breathing heavy. “No. Voldemort knows what we plan to do. We have to do it now, before he does something drastic.” Harry licks his lips. “We should go to the forest. I’m not summoning Death in the middle of Hogwarts.”

Ron nods. “Do you need to get the Hallows, mate?”

Harry shakes his head. “No. I… I have them. He reaches into his bag and pulls out his Invisibility Cloak. “Come on.”

They sneak out of the 8thyear rooms, Draco supporting Harry, who is still too weak to stand. They stumble down the empty corridors and Harry is grateful that everyone is at dinner. Harry and his friends will be missed, he knows that, but not yet. They often show up late for meals, but when they don’t show up at all…

They leave the building and step outside into the heavy rain and night sky. They shiver, the rain soaking through their clothes. As they walk down the grounds towards the forest, Harry stops. Beside him, Hermione does too, looking at him in concern. Harry smiles at her, before turning to Draco.

“Draco Malfoy, I love you. And no matter what happens tonight, I need you to remember that.”

Draco reaches up, cupping Harry’s face in his hands. “Don’t you dare say goodbye to me, Harry Potter.”

Harry smiles sadly. He holds Draco close and kisses him, the rain pouring around them. Harry tilts his face, kissing Draco as though for the last time. It might be. Harry steps back, keeping one hand on Draco’s shoulder, the other subtly reaching down into his robes and closing around his wand. “I’m not saying goodbye, sweetheart. I’m saying see you later.” Then he pulls his wand and says, “Petrificus Totalus!”

Harry catches Malfoy’s paralyzed body and gently lowers him to the floor. Beside him, Ron and Hermione are gaping. “What are you doing?”

Harry looks over at them. “I can’t let him get hurt. Ron, stay and look after him. Please. Hermione, I need your help with the ritual.”

Ron and Hermione share a look, before nodding and exchanging a quick kiss. Harry gently caresses Draco’s face and whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Then he stands and faces Ron. He pulls him in for a quick, tight hug. Harry then slips his hand into Hermione’s and they rush towards the forest. As they reach the edge, Harry drags Hermione into the wood, following a careful path. Hermione pants behind him. “Where are we going?”

Harry looks over at her, before he continues dipping between the trees. “To the Hallows.”

After a long jog, they reach a large tree, the trunk thicker than the rest. Harry kneels down beside the roots, pulls out his wand and whispers several spells, breaking all his protection charms. Once he has disabled them, he starts to dig until his fingers graze the lid of the box he buried the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand in. He heaves the box out of the dirt and once again mutters some spells, deactivating the protection charms on the box. Then he slowly, cautiously opens it. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees the stone and the wand lying there, untouched. He closes the box and stands. “Let’s do this.”

They find a clearing and Hermione casts an impressive Lumos charm. The trees are so thick here that the rain barely touches them, the wind being the only sign of the storm raging. Harry looks at Hermione. “What do I have to do?”

Hermione clasps her hands. “You need to lie the Hallows on the crowd in the formation of the Deathly Hallows symbol.”

Harry nods. He lies the wand down, places the stone over it and uses magic to place the cloak in a triangle around them. He looks at Hermione, who offers a knife to him. “Cut your palm and drop your blood in the center, over the stone. Harry does, wincing as he slices his skin. He drips the blood onto the Deathly Hallows and waits further instruction.

“Now you have to summon him. I’ll say it and you repeat, okay?”

Harry nods. Hermione begins. “I, Harry Potter, praeceptorem mors vocat te.”

Harry shoots her a look. “What in Merlin’s name is that?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “We don’t have time for this, Harry! But if you must know, it’s in Latin. The entire incantation says ‘I, Harry Potter, commander of Death, summon you. I demand your presence. With my blood, I call to you. With your treasures, I summon you. Show yourself.’. Now, can we continue?”

Harry nods. “I, Harry Potter, praeceptorem mors vocat te.”

“Iubeo te super hoc.”

“Iubeo te super hoc,” Harry echoes.

“Et sanguis meus, clamabo ad te,” Hermione chants.

“Et sanguis meus, clamabo ad te.”

“Et in thesauris tuis citatus, accedas. Ostende te.”

“Et in thesauris tuis citatus, accedas. Ostende te.'” Harry finishes.

A gust of icy wind rushes through the trees and the air seems to suck out of the area. Hermione grips Harry’s uninjured hand tightly as they stare at the Hallows, waiting. A small whirlwind forms above the symbol and Harry and Hermione have to look away as the dirt flitters into the sky. Once the whirlwind has calmed down, they look back over and gasp. Hovering there is a black, spindly figure, with red eyes. It looks like a demon. Hermione drops Harry’s hand and shoves him forward lightly. Harry steps towards Death, gulping.

“Aah,” Death hisses out, his voice deep, croaky and inhumane. “Harry Potter. My lord and master. What is it that you want?”

Harry swallows. “Well, what do you want?”

Death growls. “You dead. I want you to belong to me. I want the Hallows destroyed so that no one can control me.”

Harry looks back at Hermione, who nods for him to continue. Harry swallows. “I’ll destroy the Deathly Hallows so that no one can control you. But I want something in return.”

Death leans forward, but hisses when he goes too far. Harry realizes then that Death can’t leave the symbol. Harry makes sure to stay carefully out of reach of the demonic creature before him. “What do you want?” Death grinds out.

Harry swallows. “I want you to agree to keep Voldemort in the realm of the dead. I want you to swear never to let Voldemort come back. In return, I will destroy the Elder wand and the Resurrection Stone.”

Death sneers. “And the Cloak?”

Harry shakes his head. “The cloak is mine.”

Death stares at him. “Voldemort is inside of you. If I remove him from you, to claim him as my own, there are risks. It will be difficult to separate your soul from his.”

Harry nods. “I understand. But I am willing to risk anything and everything, if it means I can get rid of him.”

Death looks suspicious. “And if I do this, if I claim Voldemort, you will destroy the Hallows?”

“Yes. But I need to know that you won’t go back on our deal. That once I am no longer your master, you won’t break our agreement and free him.”

Death reaches out a hand. “Give me your arm.”

Harry looks back at Hermione, who steps closer, gesturing for him to give Death his arm. Harry shoots her a horrified look. “Why should I give Death my arm?”

Hermione nudges him closer. “He wants to make the Unbreakable Vow. That way, even when you are no longer his master, he cannot break his promise.”

Harry nods slowly. That makes sense. He hesitantly reaches out a hand and grips Death’s outstretched one. A cold chill shoots through Harry’s body. He tries to jerk away, but Death just grins a sharp toothed smile and wraps his fingers tightly around Harry’s wrist.

Hermione coughs and holds out her wand. “Ready?”

Harry nods. So does Death. Hermione starts to speak. “Do you, Death, solemnly swear to claim Voldemort as your own and keep him trapped in the land of the dead for all of eternity?”

“I swear.”

“Do you, Death, promise to prevent Voldemort from ever causing harm again?”

“I swear.”

“Do you, Harry Potter, solemnly swear to destroy the Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand if Death upholds his end of the bargain?”

Harry looks Death in the eye. “I swear.”

The vow is complete. Harry drops Death’s wrist quickly and steps back. He wipes his palm against his trousers and glances over at Hermione. She nods. “It worked.” Harry sighs in relief.

“Great, so now we just have to remove Voldemort from my- “

Harry trails off abruptly. He gulps, staring at the floor, his eyes widening. “Voldemort is back. I can feel him. We have to do this quickly, before he takes control.”

Death nods. “Come closer them Harry Potter.”

Harry obeys, nervous but determined. He stops directly in front of Death and says, “Do what you have to do.”

Death grins manically. Then he stretches a hand forward and reaches inside Harry’s chest. Harry gasps, the feeling of coldness and despair filling him. It’s like being surrounded by 100 Dementors at once. Death’s hand twists inside Harry’s chest, reaching, searching. Harry bites his lip to hold back his pained cry as Death grazes his heart. The tendrils of Death reach out to every crevice of his body, seeking out Voldemort’s soul. When the icy cold reaches Harry’s mind, he screams and falls to his knees, pain clouding his vision. Death cackles, enjoying himself, and twists deeper into Harry’s mind. Harry chokes, gasps. Then there is another force inside of him, fighting back. Voldemort.

_I won’t go that easily, Harry. Death cannot claim me._

“He’s here!” Harry gasps out.

Death smirks. “I know.”

Harry screams in agony as Death and Voldemort fight inside of him, their cold, dark forces pressing against his mind, heart and soul. His heart feels as though the life is being squeezed from it, his brain feels ready to explode and his soul is overcome with darkness and evil. He whimpers as the battle inside of him continues. He can’t tell which force is Voldemort and which is Death, only that he is complete consumed by both of them. He breathes rapidly, struggling to stay in control, struggling to remain present in his own body. Inside his head, he can hear the two voices raging.

_Let me control Harry Potter, and I will give you as many souls as you wish._

**_I made an Unbreakable Vow, Tom Riddle. I will claim your soul and in return I will have no master._ **

_You are making a mistake, Death._

**_I don’t make mistakes, Tom. That is your area of expertise._ **

Harry winces, gripping his head. The chaos inside of him grows stronger, more intense. He bites is lip, drawing blood.

_Come on, then, Death. Take your best shot._

**_Oh, I plan to._ **

Harry screams again as raw agony echoes across every cell in his body. He completely collapses this time, lying still on the floor as the two evils inside of him compete for dominance. He blearily notices Hermione leaning over him, touching his face, calling his name, but he stares straight up, blankly. He can’t move, or think, or breathe. Then the pain intensifies further and he cries out, before his vision blurs completely and the world turns black.

Harry blinks into consciousness three days later. He winces, eyelids fluttering as the world comes into focus. He reaches for his glasses, but can’t find them. He frowns. What the…? Then the events from the forest come back to him and he gasps, a hand reaching up to his head. “Hello?” he whispers. “Voldemort?”

Nothing. He pushes slightly, feeling around inside of himself, seeking out the presence he has grown used to. There is none. He is alone inside his body. Completely alone. He laughs lightly, a hand covering his mouth as he giggles. He is free. And alive.

“Better enjoy laughing now, Potter, because I swear the second you are out of the infirmary I am going to kill you.”

Harry jumps at the voice and turns to look in the direction it came from. He grins when he makes out the blurry outline of Draco. Draco, however, is fuming. He shoves Harry’s glasses onto his face, the world suddenly coming into focus for Harry. He looks up to meet Draco’s eyes, confused by the anger he sees there.

“Draco?”

“You idiot, Harry Potter!” Draco yells. “You could have died!”

“We knew the risks,” Harry interjects, but Draco is on a role.

“You used the full body bind curse on me! I should have been with you, just in case, but _nooo,_ you chose to freeze my sorry ass and leave me whilst you went off to play hero. You stupid, bumbling idiot. For once in your life, Harry, think about saving yourself and not others. Sometimes you actually need to look at how you feel and think and not on what is best for every other goddam person on this bloody planet! If it’s not saving innocents from Voldemort, it’s taking Bludgers to the head or fighting Basilisks. Just… just _stop.”_

Then, without another word, Draco has thrown himself onto the bed and holding Harry close, snogging his brains out. Harry, surprised and stunned by the sudden change in direction, pliantly kisses him back for a few moments, before he gets a grip of himself and tugs Draco flush against him. Draco pulls back after a few more moments and curls into Harry’s side.

“Forgive me?” Harry whispers.

Draco clears his throat. “Hermione says it worked. Now you just have to destroy the Hallows. Death said he’d know when you wake up and after that you’d have one day to follow through with your end of the bargain.”

Harry sighs. “How long have I been out?”

“Three days.”

Harry groans. “When’s Pomfrey going to come clear me so that I can destroy those blasted things. Where are they, anyways?”

“Hermione has them. Or Ron, I’m not sure which. And Pomfrey said she’d be back before lunch which is… now.”

Sure enough, Madam Pomfrey walks into the room and tuts when she sees Harry and Draco curled up together. “Mr Malfoy, please step away from the patient so that I can check if he is okay.”

Draco smirks at Harry and climbs off the bed. Madam Pomfrey steps up to Harry. “Now, Mr Potter. Miss Granger told me about what happened. Practicing wordless and wandless magic can cause accidents like this. Especially when no one knew what spell you were trying to cast since it was wordless. Now, how do you feel?”

Harry stands in the middle of the forest with Draco, Ron and Hermione, the Elder Wand in one hand and the Resurrection Stone in the other. He glances over at his friends. “Any idea how to destroy them?”

Ron shrugs, thinking. Hermione takes the Hallows off Harry and places them on the floor. “I think we can destroy them the same way we destroy the Horcruxes.”

Harry shakes his head slowly. “We don’t have any Basilisk venom.”

Hermione pulls Harry’s wand out of his robes and places it in his hands. “How did the diadem get destroyed?”

Harry’s lips part in an ‘oh’. “Fiendfyre.”

Draco shakes his head hurriedly. “No. No, I am not being around when you use that. I had to watch one of my friends _die_ in that fire.” He looks over at Harry. “It’s too risky.”

Harry reaches up with his wandless hand and presses his palm to Draco’s cheek. “We have to do this. Trust me.”

Draco looks uneasy, but he nods slowly. “Okay.”

Harry turns back to the Hallows. “Maybe you should all step back.” He doesn’t check to see if they’ve listened. He raises his wand, takes a deep breath, and says the incantation. The Hallows erupt into flames and the group yelps, all leaping backwards. They watch for a moment as the Hallows burn, Harry carefully controlling it so as to not let it spread out of control like the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement did. Once he is sure the fire is contained, he steps back. Draco’s arms immediately wrap around him and he stands there, in the love of his life’s arms, his best friends standing beside him. He smiles in relief as he watches the Hallows that have brought him so much torment turn into ash. As they stand there, he tilts his head into Draco’s neck and presses a single kiss to Draco’s throat. He presses up onto his tiptoes and whispers something in Draco’s ear. Just three words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is. All that's left now is the epilogue. And that's where I need your help. 
> 
> I've written two epilogues. One is an ending. And one means a sequel. What do you all think? End it as is, or should I write a sequel? Let me know! I'll post the epilogue at the end of the week.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the short, but sweet epilogue. I hope you all like it. 
> 
> There will be a sequel to this fic. I have the idea and have started writing it, but it will probably be a couple months before I post anything. But it will happen. I promise. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all the support you have given me with Save Myself. 
> 
> xxx

**Epilogue**

** Several months later… August **

****

_Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms_  
Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song  
When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath  
But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

****

  * Perfect, Ed Sheeran



****

**Harry**

****

Harry places the last candle on the bookshelf, before stepping back to admire his handy work. The apartment Ron and Hermione have rented in London is completely alight with the flickering glow of candles. Harry smiles. Today is the day. Ron is proposing to Hermione.

Being the romantic that he is, Ron has set up a scavenger hunt throughout England, with difficult questions and riddles for her to solve, all of which ends at the apartment with an elaborate meal that Harry – and Draco – have prepared.

Harry smiles as he thinks of how much has changed over the past year. When he’d started school the previous September, he had been broken, consumed by Voldemort manifesting inside of him. He’d been scared, hurt and scarred from the war. Then he’d befriended Draco and their friendship had blossomed into a romance that could rival that of fairytales. After the deal with Death, Harry had been petrified that Death would go back on his word and release Voldemort back into the world. But the months had drawn on without sign of any trouble and N.E.W.T.s had sprung upon him, Voldemort and Death pushed to the back of his mind.

Hermione had obtained Outstanding’s for all of her N.E.W.T.s and started her job at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures two weeks ago. Harry and Ron start Auror training next month,and Draco is starting an apprenticeship with a Potions Master called Lockswood tomorrow. 

Harry grins wider as he thinks of Draco. They’d moved into Grimmauld Place together straight after graduation. They’d fixed up the old house to make it more… appropriate.

When Harry had first told Draco that he owned the old Black house, Draco had insisted on Harry taking him to see it. When Draco had lain his eyes on the old family tree on the wall in Grimmauld Place for the first time, he’d broken down into loud sobs, his fingers resting over his mother’s picture. Harry had hugged him, holding him close. The next day they’d started cleaning the house out, Kreacher grumbling at Harry the whole time and worshipping the ground Draco walked on. It has been home ever since. Life is almost perfect.

“What are you doing, Potter?”

Almost.

Harry closes his eyes for a moment. “What do you want, Death?”

One month ago, Death decided to reappear in Harry’s life. Weekly visits became every second day, before becoming daily. It’s been driving Harry spare.

“I was just checking in on my favorite human,” Death retorts.

The room feels colder than before. Everything feels cold when Death is around.

Harry swallows hard. Why can’t people – _things –_ just leave him alone?

Death reaches out and lets his fingers slowly trail up Harry’s arm. Harry shudders.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Death says, his voice like cracking ice.

Then Harry is alone. He rests his head on the bookshelf and sighs heavily, before stepping away and trying to shake the unease away. Death never does anything. He’s barely there for a full minute most of the time. But his presence is a constant reminder that something is wrong. Why else would Death be visiting Harry daily?

Harry jumps when arms wrap around his waist and lips latch onto his neck, kissing lightly. Harry sighs, leaning back against Draco’s chest.

“The flat looks perfect,” Draco says against Harry’s neck, the kisses stopping for a moment.

Harry beams, Death momentarily forgotten, and spins in Draco’s arms to face him, placing his arms around Draco’s neck. “Good.”

At that moment, the door opens and Ron and Hermione step inside. Harry and Draco sneakily vanish into the kitchen unnoticed. They wait until Ron and Hermione are seated, before they pick up the starters and walk into the dining room to serve them. Hermione raises an eyebrow when she sees them, but grins at their formal robes and smart attire.

Harry places the soup in front of her, whilst Draco serves Ron his. Then they slip from the room to leave Ron and Hermione to eat in peace. The night transpires in much the same manner, Ron and Hermione having a soppy, romantic meal, whilst Harry and Draco wait on them. When dessert comes around, Ron gets down on one knee and Hermione gasps, covering her mouth with her hand as tears well in her eyes. Harry and Draco stand in the doorway, watching shamelessly.

Ron clears his throat, emotion choking his voice. “Hermione, I love you. So much. We have been through so much together and all these troubles have brought us closer. ‘Mione, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to grow old with you, have children with you, love you. I know we are young, but Hermione Jean Granger, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and spending the rest of our days together?”

Hermione sobs and throws herself into Ron’s arms, crying out “yes” repeatedly.

Harry grins as his best friends’ hug each other tightly and kiss happily. Hermione is in tears and Ron’s face is bright with happiness.

Draco nudges Harry and he glances over at his boyfriend. Draco grins. “Horrendously adorable, aren’t they,” Draco comments.

Harry laughs, looking back over at Ron and Hermione who are making out passionately. Harry sighs. “Draco?”

“Yes, Harry?”

Harry turns to face him. “Want to get married at some point? Not now, but, you know, later?”

Draco stares at him for a moment, before shrugging and saying, “If you insist.”

Harry laughs, shaking his head. Draco nudges their shoulders together, his carefully neutral expression breaking into a large smile. Harry grins, biting his bottom lip as he rests his head on Draco’s shoulder. He thinks back on a quote he remembers from when Draco read _Pride and Prejudice_ to him. “ _I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice_.”Harry sighs contently. In this moment, he couldn’t agree more, for what he and Draco have, well, it’s everlasting. Infinite. Forever. And it is beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. xxx


End file.
